Snm\ 


Lothf^op  Publishing  (ompa^y 

B0.5TOI4. 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 


ENDOWED  BY  THE 

DIALECTIC  AND  PHILANTHROPIC 

SOCIETIES 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2010  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://www.archive.org/details/boytrooperwithshOOalle 


A   BOY  TROOPER 

WITH  SHERIDAN 


STANTON    P.    ALLEN 

FIRST    MASSACHUSETTS    CAVALRY 


ILLUSTRATED 


BOSTON 
LOTHROP   PUBLISHING    COMPANY 


Copyright,  18S8, 

STANTON   P.  AI.LEN. 

Copyright,  1892, 

D.    LOTHROP  COMPANY. 

Copyright,  1899, 

LOTHROP  PUBLISHING   COMPANY. 


Xorujoob  }9rC5s  : 
Berwick  k  Smith.  Norwood.  Mass..  V.S.I 


A  BOY  TROOPER  WITH  SHERIDAN 


CHAPTER    I. 


More  than  He  Bargained  for —  The  War  Fever  and  How  it 
Affeeted  the  Boys  —  A  Disbanded  Cavalryman  —  Going  to 
Sclwcl  in  Uniform  —  Cousin  Tom  from  Shi/oh  ■ —  Running 
Away  to  Enlist  —  The  Draft  —  In  the  Griswold  Cavalry  — 
Habeas  Corpitsed. 


N  the  local  columns  of  the  Troy  (N.  Y.) 
Daily  Times  of  September  I,  1S63,  the 
following  news  item  was  published  : 


MORE   THAN    HE    BARGAINED    FOR. 

"A  few  days  ago  one  Stanton  P.  Allen  of  Berlin,  en- 
listed in  Capt.  Boutelle's  company  of  the  twenty-first  (Gris- 
wold) cavalry.  We  are  not  informed  whether  it  was  Stanton's  bearing  the  same 
name  as  the  Secretary  of  War,  or  his  mature  cast  of  countenance  that  caused  him 
to  be  accepted  ;  for  he  was  regarded  as  nineteen  years  of  age,  while,  in  reality, 
but  fourteen  summers  had  passed  over  his  youthful,  but  ambitious  brow.  Stan- 
ton received  a  portion  of  his  bounty  and  invested  himself  in  one  of  those  '  neat, 
but  not  gaudy'  yellow  and  blue  suits  that  constitute  the  uniform  of  the  Griswold 
boys.  A  few  days  intervened.  Stanton's  '  patients, '  on  the  vine-clad  hills  of  Ber- 
lin, heard  that  their  darling  boy  had  '  gone  for  a  sojer.'  Their  emotions  were 
indescribable.  'So  young  and  yet  so  valiant,'  thought  his  female  relatives. 
'  How  can  I  get  him  out  ? '  was  the  more  practical  query  of  his  papa.     The  ways 


550308 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 


and  means  were  soon  discovered.  A  writ  of  habeas  corpus  was  procured  from 
Judge  Robertson,  and  as  the  proof  was  clear  that  Stanton  was  only  fourteen  years 
old,  lie  was  duly  discharged  from  the  service  of  the  United  States.  But  the  end 
was  not  yet.  A  warrant  was  issued  for  the  recruit,  charging  him  with  obtaining 
bounty  and  uniform  under  false  pretenses,  and  a  release  from  the  military  service 
proved  only  a  transfer  to  the  civil  power.  Stanton  found  that  he  had  made  a  poor 
exchange  of  '  situations,' and  last  evening  gave  bail  before  Judge  Robertson  in 
the  sum  of  five  hundred  dollars." 


In  order  that  the  correctness  of  history  may  not  be 
questioned,  the  subject  of  the  above  deems  it  expedient 
to  place  on  record  an  outline  of  the  circumstances  lead- 
ing up  to  the  incident  related  by  the  Times. 

At  the  breaking  out  of  the  war  my  father  resided  in 
Berlin,  N.  Y.,  on  the  Brimmer  farm,  three  miles  or  so 
from  the  village.  I  was  twelve  years  old,  but  larger 
than  many  lads  of  sixteen.  I  was  attacked  by  the  war 
fever  as  soon  as  the  news  that  Fort  Sumter  had  been 
fired  on  reached  the  Brimmer  farm.  Nathaniel  Bass 
worked  for  my  father  that  year.  The  war  fever  got  hold 
of  Nat  after  haying  was  over,  and  one  night  along  in  the 
latter  part  of  August,  he  said  to  me : 

'•  I'm  going  to  war." 

"  You  don't  mean  it,  Nat  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  do.  The  fall's  work  won't  last  long,  and 
they  say  they're  paying  thirteen  dollars  a  month  and 
found  for  soldiers.  That's  better'n  doing  chores  for 
your  board." 

"  If  you  do  go  I'll  run  away  and  enlist." 

"  No ;   you're   too   young   to  go   to   war.     You  must 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

wait  till  you're  an  able-bodied  man — that's  what  the 
bills  call  for." 

"  O,  dear!  I'm  afraid  you'll  whip  all  the  rebels 
before  I  can  get  there." 

I  cried  myself  to  sleep  that  night. 

How  I  envied  Nat  when  he  came  home  on  a  three 
days'  furlough  clad  in  a  full  suit  of  cavalry  uniform  !  He 
enlisted  September  20,  1S61,  in  the  Second  New  York 
cavalry.  The  regiment  was  known  as  the  Northern 
Black-horse  cavalry.  Nat  allowed  me  to  try  on  his 
jacket,  and  I  strutted  about  in  it  for  an  hour  or  so.  I 
felt  that  even  in  wearing  it  for  a  short  time  I  was  doing 
something  toward  whipping  the  Southerners.  But 
Bass's  furlough  came  to  an  end,  and  he  returned  to  his 
regiment. 

Nat  came  back  in  time  to  help  us  plant  in  the  spring 
of  1862.  The  regiment  went  as  far  as  Camp  Stoneman, 
near  Washington,  where  it  remained  in  winter  quarters. 
It  was  not  accepted  by  the  United  States  Government, 
and  was  never  mounted.  The  reason  given  was  that 
the  Government  had  more  cavalry  than  it  could  handle, 
and  the  Northern  Black-horse  cavalry  was  disbanded. 
The  regiment  was  raised  by  Colonel  Andrew  J.  Morri- 
son, who  subsequently  served  with  distinction  at  the  head 
of  a  brigade. 

Nat  came  home  "  chock-full "  of  war  stories.  He  was 
just  as  much  a  hero  in  my  estimation  as  he  would  have 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

been  if  the  rebels  had  shot  him  all  to  pieces.  I  never 
tired  of  listening  to  his  yarns  about  the  experiences  of 
the  regiment  at  Camp  Stoneman.  He  had  not  seen  a 
rebel,  dead  or  alive,  but  that  was  not  his  fault.  Nat 
was  something  of  a  singer,  and  he  had  a  song  describing 
the  adventures  of  his  regiment.  The  soldiers  were  re- 
ferred to  as  "  rats."      I  recall  one  verse  and  the  chorus  : 

"  The  rats  they  were  mustered, 

And  then  they  were  paid ; 
'  And  now,'  says  Col.  Morrison, 
'  We'll  have  a  dress  parade.' 
Lally  boo  ! 
Lally  boo,  oo,  oo, 
Lally  bang,  bang,  bang, 
Lally  boo,  oo,  oo, 
Lally  bang  !  " 

I  would  join  in  the  chorus,  and  although  I  did  not 
understand  the  sentiment  —  if  there  was  any  in  the  song 
—  I  was  ready  to  adopt  it  as  a  national  hymn. 

I  was  the  proudest  boy  in  the  Brimmer  district 
at  the  opening  of  school  the  next  winter.  I  fairly 
"paralyzed"  the  teacher,  George  Powell,  and  all  the 
scholars,  when  I  marched  in  wearing  Nat's  cavalry 
jacket  and  forage  cap.  He  had  made  me  a  present  of 
them.  I  was  the  lion  of  the  day.  The  jacket  fitted  me 
like  a  sentry-box,  but  the  girls  voted  the  rig  "  perfectly 
lovely."  Half  a  dozen  big  boys  threatened  to  punch 
my  eyes  out  if  I  did  not  "  leave  that  ugly  old  jacket  at 
home."      I  enjoved  the  notoriety,  and  continued  to  wear 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 


the  jacket.  But  one  day  Jim  Duffy,  a  boy  who  worked 
for  Tom  Jones,  came  into  the  school  with  an  artillery 
jacket  on.  It  was  of  the  same  pattern  as  the  jacket  I 
wore,  but  had  red  trimmings  in  place  of  yellow.  The 
girls  decided  that  Jim's  jacket  was  the  prettier.  I  made 
up  my  mind  to  challenge  Jim  at  the  afternoon  recess, 
but  my  anger  moderated  as  I  heard  one  of  the  small 
girls  remark : 

"  But  Jim  ain't  got  no  sojer  cap,  so  he  ain't  no  real 
sojer  —  he's  only  a  make-b'lief." 

"Sure  enough!"  chorused  the  girls. 

Then  I  expected  Duffy  to  challenge  me,  but  he  did 
not,  and  there  was  no  fight. 

That  same  winter  Thomas  Torrey  of  Williamstown 
came  to  our  house  visiting.  Tom  was  one  of  the  first 
to  respond  to  the  call  for  volunteers  to  put  down  the 
rebellion.  He  was  in  the  Western  army,  and  fought 
under  Grant  at  Shiloh.  He  received  a  wound  in  the 
second  day's  fight,  May  7,  1862,  that  crippled  him  for 
life.  He  had  his  right  arm  extended  to  ram  home  a 
cartridge,  when  a  rebel  bullet  struck  him  in  the  wrist. 
The  ball  shattered  the  bone  of  the  forearm  and  sped  on 
into  the  shoulder,  which  it  disabled.  Tom's  good  right 
arm  was  useless  forever  after. 

Tom  was  a  better  singer  than  Bass,  and  as  we 
claimed  him  as  our  cousin,  it  seemed  as  if  our  family 
had    already   shed    blood    to    put    down    the    rebellion. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

While  the  wounded  soldier  remained  at  our  house  and 
told  war  stories  and  sang  the  patriotic  songs  of.  the  day, 
my  enthusiasm  was  kept  at  one  hundred  and  twenty 
degrees  in  the  shade.  I  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would 
go  to  war  or  "  bust  a  blood  vessel."  I  assisted  in  dress- 
ing Tom's  shattered  arm  once  or  twice,  but  even  that 
did  not  quench  the  patriotic  fire  that  had  been  kindled 
in  my  breast  by  Bass's  war  stories  and  fanned  almost 
into  a  conflagration  by  Tom's  recital  of  his  experiences 
in  actual  combat. 

I  discarded   Nat's   "Lallv  boo"'  and  transferred  my 
allegiance  to  a  stirring:  son^  suns;  bv  Tom  : 


"  At  Pittsburg  Landing 

Our  troops  fought  very  hard  ; 
They  killed  old  Johnston 

And  conquered  Beauregard. 

"  Hoist  up  the  flag; 

Long  may  it  wave 
Over  the  Union  boys, 

So  noble  and  so  brave." 


I  laid  awake  nights  and  studied  up  plans  to  go  to 
Pittsburg  Landing  and  run  a  bayonet  through  the  rebel 
who  shot  "  Cousin  Tom." 

The  summer  of  1S62  was  a  very  trying  time.  Char- 
ley Taylor  of  Berlin,  opened  a  recruiting  office  in  the 
village  and  enlisted  men  for  Company  B,  One  hundred 
and  twenty-fifth  New  York  volunteers.  I  wanted  to  go, 
but   when    I   suggested   it  to   my   father  he   remarked : 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  They  don't  take  boys  who  can't  hoe  a  man's  row. 
You'll  have  to  wait  five  or  six  years." 

When  the  Berlin  boys  came  home  on  furlough  from 
Troy,  to  show  themselves  in  their  new  uniforms  and 
bid  their  friends  good-by,  it  seemed  to  me  that  my 
chances  of  reaching  the  front  in  time  to  help  put  down 
the  rebellion,  were  slim  indeed.  I  reasoned  that  if  Nat 
Bass  could  have  driven  the  rebels  into  Richmond  alone 
—  as  he  said  he  could  have  done  if  he  had  been  given 
an  opportunity  —  the  war  would  be  brought  to  a  speedy 
close  when  Company  B  was  turned  loose  upon  the  Con- 
federates in  Virginia.  It  seemed  that  nearly  everybody 
was  going  in  Company  B  except  Bass  and  I.  I  urged 
Nat  to  go,  but  he  said  it  would  be  considered  "  small 
potatoes  for  a  man  who  had  served  in  the  cavalry  to  re- 
enlist  in  the  infantry."  If  I  had  not  overlooked  the 
fact  that  Nat  had  never  straddled  a  horse  during  his  six 
months'  service  in  Col.  Morrison's  regiment,  I  might 
have  questioned  the  consistency  of  Bass's  position. 

The  One  hundred  and  twenty-fifth  left  Troy  Satur- 
day, August  30,  1S62,  and  on  the  same  day  the  second 
battle  of  Bull  Run  was  fought,  resulting  in  the  retreat 
of  the  Union  Army  into  the  fortifications  around 
Washington. 

"  I  told  you  so,"  said  Bass,  when  the  news  of  the 
battle  reached  Berlin.  "  The  boys  in  Company  B  will 
have   their   hands   full.     Thev   will   reach   the  front   in 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

time  to  take  part  in  this  fall's  campaign.  I  shall  wait 
till  next  summer,  and  then  if  there's  a  call  for  another 
cavalry  regiment  to  fight  the  rebels,  I'll  go  down  and 
help  whip  "em  some  more." 

When  the  news  of  Grant's  glorious  capture  of  Vicks- 
burg,  and  Meade's  splendid  victory  at  Gettysburg,  was 
received  in  Berlin,  I  made  up  my  mind  that  the  crisis 
had  arrived.     I  said  to  Bass  : 

"  Nat,  our  time's  come." 

"  How  so  ?  " 

"We've  waited  a  year,  and  they've  called  for  another 
regiment  of  cavalry." 

"  Then  I  believe  I'll  go." 

"So'll  I." 

"  Where's  the  regiment  being  raised  ?  " 

"  In  Troy." 

"  Will  your  father  let  you  go  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not  —  don't  say  a  word  to  him.  But  I 
tell  you,  Nat,  I'm  going.  The  Union  armies  are  knock- 
ing the  life  out  of  the  rebels  east  and  west,  and  it's 
now  or  never.  I  can't  stand  it  any  longer.  I'm  going 
to  war." 

I  was  only  a  boy  —  born  February  20,  1S49  —  but 
thanks  to  an  iron  constitution,  splendid  health  and  a 
vigorous  training  in  farm  work,  I  had  developed  into 
a  lad  who  would  pass  muster  for  nineteen  almost 
anywhere. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 


Bass  got  away  from  me.  My  father  drove  to  Troy 
with  Nat,  who  enlisted  August  7,  in  Company  E,  of  the 
Griswold  cavalry.  The  regiment  was  taken  to  the  front 
and  into  active  service  by  the  late  General  William 
B.  Tibbits  of  Troy. 

About  the  first  of  August  a  circus  pitched  its 
tents  in  Berlin.  Everybody  went  to  the  show.  While 
the  acrobats  were  vaulting  about  in  the  ring,  a  lad  in 
a  cavalry  uniform  entered  the  tent  and  took  a  seat  not 
far  from  where  I  was  sitting.  The  circus  was  a  tame 
affair  to  me  after  that.  A  live  elephant  was  nowhere 
when  a  boy  in  blue  was  around. 

"  Who's  that  soldier  ?  "   I  asked  my  best  girl. 

"  That's  Henry  Tracy ;  I  wish  he'd  look  this  way. 
He's  too  sweet  for  anything." 

"  Where's  he  from  ?  " 

"  Off  the  mountain,  from  the  Dutch  settlement  near 
the  Dyken  pond.,  Isn't  he  lovely!  What  a  nobby 
suit !  " 

When  the  circus  was  out,  I  managed  to  secure  an 
interview  with  the  "  bold  sojer  boy,"  who  informed  me 
that  he  was  in  the  same  camp  with  Bass  at  Troy. 

"  How  old  are  you  ?  "   I  asked  Tracy. 

"  I'm  just  eighteen,"  he  answered,  with  a  wink  that 
gave  me  to  understand  that  I  was  not  to  accept  the 
statement  as  a  positive  fact. 

"  Do  you  think  they'd  take  me  ?  " 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  Certainly ;  you're  more'n  eighteen." 

"  When  are  you  going  back  ?  " 

"Shall  start  to-night.     Think  you'll  go  along?  " 

"  Yes  ;   if  you  really  think  they'll  take  me." 

"  I'm  sure  they  will  ;  you  just  let  me  manage  the 
thing  for  you." 

"  All  right ;    I'm  with  you." 

I  went  with  Tracy  that  night  —  after  he  had  seen 
his  girl  home.  As  we  climbed  the  steep  mountain,  I 
expected  every  minute  to  hear  the  footsteps  of  a  brigade 
of  relatives  in  pursuit.  We  reached  the  Tracy  domicile 
about  midnight,  and  went  to  bed.  I  could  not  sleep. 
The  frogs  in  the  pond  near  the  house  kept  up  a  loud 
chorus,  led  by  a  bull-frog  with  a  deep  bass  voice.  I  had 
heard  the  frogs  on  other  occasions  when  fishing  in  the 
mountain  lakes,  and  the  boys  agreed  that  the  burden  of 
the  frog  chorus  was  : 

You'd  better  go  round  ! 
You'd  better  go  round  I 

We'll  bite  your  bait  off ! 

We'll  bite  your  bait  off ! 

Somehow  the  chorus  seemed  that  night  to  have 
been  changed.  As  I  lay  there  and  listened  for  the 
sound  of  my  father's  wagon,  the  frogs  sang  after  this 
fashion  : 

You'd  better  go  home  1 
You'd  better  go  home  ! 

They'll  shoot  your  head  off ! 

They'll  shoot  your  head  off! 


FIRST    FNLISTMENT. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

And,  oh!  how  that  old  bull-frog  with  the  bass  voice 
came  in  on  the  chorus  : 

They'll  shoot  your  head  off !  " 

We  got  up  at  daylight,  and  walked  over  to  the  plank 
road  and  waited  for  the  stage  from  Berlin  to  come 
along,  en  route  to  Troy.  When  the  vehicle  came  in 
sight,  I  hid  in  the  bushes  until  Tracy  could  reconnoiter 
and  ascertain  if  my  father  was  on  board.  He  gave  a 
signal  that  the  coast  was  clear,  and  we  took  passage  for 
the  city. 

"You're  Alex  Allen's  boy?"  the  driver — Frank 
Maxon  —  said,  as  we  took  seats  in  the  stage. 

"What  about  it?" 

"  I  heard  'em  say  at  the  post-office  this  morning  that 
you'd  run  away." 

"  False  report,"  said  Tracy  ;  "  he's  just  going  to  Troy 
to  bid  me  good-by." 

"  Well,  he  must  be  struck  on  you,  as  they  say  he 
never  set  eyes  on  you  till  yesterday." 

The  stage  rattled  into  Troy  about  half-past  ten 
o'clock.  There  was  considerable  excitement  in  the  city 
over  the  draft.  Soldiers  were  camped  in  the  court-house 
yard  and  elsewhere.  They  were  Michigan  regiments,  I 
think.  There  was  a  section  of  artillery  in  the  yard  of 
the  hotel  above  the  tunnel.  I  could  not  understand  how 
it  was  that  the   Government  was  obliged  to  resort  to  a 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

draft  to  secure  soldiers.  To  me  it  seemed  that  an  able- 
bodied  man  who  would  not  volunteer  to  put  down  the 
rebellion,  was  pretty  "  small  potatoes." 

But  I  was  only  a  boy.  Older  persons  did  not  look 
at  it  in  the  same  light  as  I  did.  By  the  way,  the  draft 
euchred  our  family  out  of  three  hundred  dollars.  When 
I  enlisted  in  the  First  Massachusetts,  after  the  failure  of 
my  plan  to  reach  Dixie  in  the  Griswold  cavalry,  I  was 
paid  three  hundred  dollars  bounty.  I  sent  it  home  to 
my  father.  The  draft  "scooped  him  in,"  and  the  Gov- 
ernment got  the  three  hundred  dollars  back,  that  being 
the  sum  the  drafted  men  were  called  on  to  pay  to  secure 
exemption. 

Tracy  escorted  me  to  Washington  Square,  where 
there  were  several  tents  in  which  recruiting  officers 
were  enlisting  men  for  the  Griswold  cavalry.  A  bounty 
of  two  dollars  was  paid  to  each  person  bringing  in  a  re- 
cruit. Tracy  sold  me  to  a  sergeant  named  Cole  for  two 
dollars,  but  he  divided  the  money  with  me  on  the  way 
to  camp.  As  we  entered  the  tent  where  Sergeant  Cole 
was  sitting,  Tracy  said  : 

"  This  young  man  wants  to  enlist,  Sergeant." 

"  All  right,  my  boy ;  how  old  are  you  —  nineteen, 
I  suppose  ? " 

"  Of  course  he's  nineteen,"  said  Tracy. 

I  did  not  contradict  what  my  soldier  friend  had  said, 
and  the  sergeant  made  out  my  enlistment  papers,  Tracy 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

making  all  the  responses  for  me  as  to  age.  After  I  had 
been  "sworn  in"  for  three  years,  or  during  the  war,  I 
was  paid  ten  dollars  bounty.  Then  we  went  up  to  the 
barracks,  and  I  was  turned  over  to  the  first  sergeant  of 
Captain  George  V.  Boutelle's  company.  I  drew  my 
uniform  that  night.  The  trousers  had  to  be  cut  off  top 
and  bottom.  The  jacket  was  large  enough  for  an  over- 
coat. The  army  shirt  scratched  my  back  —  but  what  is 
the  use  of  reviving  dead  issues  ! 

One  day  orders  came  for  Capt.  Boutelle's  company 
to  "  fall  in  for  muster."  The  line  was  formed  down 
near  the  gate.  I  was  in  the  rear  rank  on  the  left.  The 
mustering  officer  stood  in  front  of  the  company  with  the 
roll  in  his  hand.  Just  at  this  time,  my  father  with  a 
deputy  sheriff  arrived  with  the  habeas  corptis,  which  was 
served  on  Capt.  Boutelle,  and  I  was  ordered  to  "  fall  out." 

Then  we  went  to  the  city,  to  the  office  of  Honorable 
Gilbert  Robertson,  Jr.,  provost  judge,  and  after  due  in- 
quiry had  been  made  as  to  "  the  cause  of  detention  by 
the  said  Capt.  Boutelle  of  the  said  Stanton  P.  Allen,"  the 
latter  "said  "  was  declared  to  be  discharged  from  Uncle 
Sam's  service.  My  father  refunded  the  ten  dollars 
bounty,  and  offered  to  return  the  uniform,  but  Capt. 
Boutelle  refused  to  accept  the  clothes,  charging  that  I 
had  obtained  property  from  the  Government  under  false 
pretenses.  Under  that  charge  I  was  held  in  five  hun- 
dred dollars  bail,  as  stated  in   the    Times,  but  the  court 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

remarked  to  my  father  that  "  that'll  be  the  end  of  it, 
probably,  as  the  captain  will  be  ordered  to  the  front, 
and  there  will  be  no  one  here  to  prosecute  the  case." 

As  we  were  leaving  Judge  Robertson's  office,  a 
policeman  arrested  me.  He  marched  me  toward  the 
jail.     Pointing  to  the  roof  of  the  prison  he  said : 

"  My  son,  I'm  sorry  for  you." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me  ?  "   I  asked. 

"  Put  you  in  jail." 

"What  for?" 

"  Defrauding  the  Government.  But  I'm  sorry  to  see 
you  go  to  jail.  They  may  keep  you  there  for  life. 
They'll  keep  you  there  till  the  war  is  over,  any  way,  for 
people  are  so  busy  with  the  war  that  they  can't  stop  to 
try  cases  of  this  kind.  You  are  charged  with  getting 
into  the  army  without  your  father's  consent.  Maybe 
they  won't  hang  you,  but  it'll  go  hard  with  you,  sure. 
I  don't  want  to  see  you  die  in  prison.  If  I  thought  you'd 
go  home  and  not  run  away  again,  I'd  let  you  escape." 

That  was  enough.  I  double-quicked  it  up  the  street 
and  hid  in  the  hotel  barn  where  my  father's  team  was 
until  he  came  along.  I  was  ready  to  go  home  with  him. 
I  did  not  know  at  that  time  that  the  arrest,  after  I  had 
been  bailed,  was  a  put-up  job.  It  was  intended  to 
frighten  me.  And  it  worked  to  a  charm.  It  was  a 
regular  Bull  Run  affair. 


CHAPTER    II. 

The  War  Fever  Again  —  Going  to  a  Shooting  Match  —  Over  the 
Mountains  to  Enlist  —  A  Question  of  Age — Sent  to  Camp 
Meigs — The  Recruit  and  the  Corporal — The  Trooper's  Out- 
fit —  A  Cartload  of  Military  Traps  —  Paraded  for  Inspection 
—  An  Officer  who  Had  Been  through  the  Mill. 


RETURNED  to  Berlin  very  much  dis- 
couraged. There  had  not  been  any- 
thing pleasant  about  our  camp  life  in 
Troy — the  food  was  poorly  cooked,  the 
camp  discipline  was  on  the  go-as-you- 
please  order  at  first,  and  sleeping  on  a 
hard  bunk  was  not  calculated  to  inspire 
patriotism  in  lads  who  had  always  enjoyed  the  luxury  of 
a  feather  bed.  Yet  the  thought  that  I  was  a  Union 
soldier,  and  a  Griswold  cavalryman  to  boot,  had  acted 
as  an  offset  to  the  hardships  of  camp  life,  and  after 
my  return  home  the  "  war  fever  "  set  in  again.  The 
relapse  was  more  difficult  to  prescribe  for  than  the  first 
attack.     The  desire  to  reach  the  front  was  stimulated 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

by  the  taunts  of  the  wiseacres  about  the  village  who 
would  bear  down  on  me  whenever  I  chanced  to  be  in 
their  presence,  as  follows  : 

"  Nice  soldier,  you  are  !  " 

"  How  do  the  rebels  look  ?  " 

"  Sent  for  your  father  to  come  and  get  you,  they 
say." 

"  Did  they  offer  you  a  commission  as  jigadier 
brindle  ?  " 

"  When  do  you  start  again  ?  " 

Quite  a  number  of  the  boys  about  the  village  and 
from  the  back  hollows  interviewed  me  now  and  then  in 
respect  of  my  army  experience.  I  was  a  veteran  in  their 
estimation.  After  several  conferences,  a  company  of 
"minute-men"  was  organized.  We  started  with  three 
members  —  Irving  Waterman,  Giles  Taylor  and  myself. 
I  was  elected  captain,  Waterman  first  lieutenant  and 
Taylor  second  lieutenant.  We  could  not  get  any  of 
the  other  boys  to  join  as  privates.  They  all  wanted  to 
be  officers,  so  we  secured  no  recruits.  It  was  decided 
that  we  would  run  awav  and  enlist  at  the  first  opportu- 
nity. Tavlor  was  considerable  of  a  "boy"  as  compared 
with  Waterman  and  myself,  as  he  was  married  and  a 
legal  voter.  Waterman  was  nearly  two  years  my  senior, 
but  as  I  had  "  been  to  war  "  they  insisted  that  I  should 
take  the  lead  and  they  would  follow. 

We  finally  fixed  upon  Thanksgiving  Day  in  Novem- 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

ber,  1863,  as  the  time  to  start  for  Dixie.  Waterman 
had  scouted  over  around  Williamstown,  and  he  came 
back  with  the  report  that  two  Williams  College  stu- 
dents were  raising  a  company  of  cavalry.  Thanks°iv- 
ing  morning  I  informed  my  mother  that  I  was  going  to 
a  shooting  match.  It  proved  to  be  more  of  a  shooting 
match  than  I  expected.  The  minute-men  met  at  a  place 
that  had  been  selected,  and  started  for  Dixie. 

At  the  Mansion  House,  Williamstown,  we  introduced 
ourselves  to  Lieutenant  Edward  Payson  Hopkins,  son 
of  a  Williams  College  professor.  The  lieutenant  was 
helping  his  cousin,  Amos  L.  Hopkins,  who  had  been 
commissioned  lieutenant  and  who  expected  to  be  a  cap- 
tain, to  raise  a  company. 

"As  soon  as  he  secures  his  quota,  I  shall  enlist  for 
myself,"  said  the  lieutenant,  who  added,  that  we  could 
put  our  names  clown  on  his  roll  and  he  would  go  with 
us  to  North  Adams,  at  which  place  we  could  take  cars 
for  Pittsfield,  where  Captain  Hopkins's  recruiting  office 
was  located.  We  rode  to  North  Adams  in  a  wa«on 
owned  by  Professor  Hopkins  and  which  was  pressed 
into  service  for  the  occasion  by  the  professor's  soldier 
son.  The  lieutenant  handled  the  lines  and  the  whip,  he 
and  I  occupying  the  seat,  and  Taylor  and  W'aterman 
sat  on  a  board  placed  across  the  wagon  behind. 

At  North  Adams  we  were  taken  into  an  office  where 
we  were  examined  by  the  town  war  committee. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 


One  of  the  committee  was  Quinn  Robinson,  a  prom- 
inent citizen.  I  was  calied  before  the  committee 
first,  and  having  been  through  the  mill  before,  I  man- 
aged to  satisfy  the  committee  that  I  was  qualified  to 
wear  a  cavalry  uniform  and  draw  full  rations.  I  remem- 
ber that  in  canvassing  the  question  of  age  —  or  rather 
what  we  should  say  on  that  subject —  we  had  agreed  to 
state  that  we  were  twenty-one.  I  was  not  fifteen  until 
the  next  February.  The  examiners  did  not  question 
my  age. 

"  We  won't  say  twenty-one  years,"  said  Waterman, 
"  and  so  we  won't  lie  about  it." 

After  I  had  been  under  fire  for  some  time  I  was  told 
to  step  aside,  and  Waterman  was  brought  before  the 
examiners. 

"  He  looks  too  young,"  said  Mr.  Robinson  to  Lieu- 
tenant Hopkins. 

"  Well,  question  him,"  suggested  the  lieutenant. 

"  How  old  are  you?  "  inquired  the  committee  man. 

"  Twenty-one,  sir,"  replied  Waterman. 

"  When  were  you  twenty-one  ?  " 

"  Last  week." 

"  I  think  you're  stretching  it  a  little." 

"No,  sir;  I'm  older  than  Allen,  who  has  just  been 
taken  in." 

"  I  guess  not;  you  may  go  out  in  the  other  room  by 
the  stove  and  think  it  over." 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

Our  married  man  Taylor  was  next  called  in. 

"We  can't  take  you,"  said  Robinson. 

"  What's  matter  ?  "  exclaimed  Giles. 

"  You're  not  old  enough." 

"  How  old've  I  got  to  be  ?  " 

"  Twenty-one,  unless  you  get  the  consent  of  your 
parents." 

"  Taylor's  a  married  man,"  I  whispered  to  Lieuten- 
ant Hopkins. 

"  Don't  tell  that,  or  he'll  be  asked  to  get  the  consent 
of  his  wife,"  said  the  lieutenant,  also  in  a  whisper. 

The  committee  contended  that  Taylor  would  not  fill 
the  bill.  WTaterman  was  recalled,  and  Mr.  Robinson 
said: 

"  Well,  you've  had  time  to  think  it  over.  Now  how 
old  are  you  ?  " 

"  Twenty-one,  last  week." 

"  I  can't  hardly  swallow  that." 

"See  here,  Mr.  Ouinn"  (I  had  not  heard  the  com- 
mittee man's  other  name  then),  I  interrupted.  "  We 
three  have  come  together  to  enlist.  You  have  said  that 
I  can  go.  Taylor  may  be  a  trifle  under  age,  but  what  of 
it  ?    If  you  don't  take  the  three  of  us  none  of  us  will  go." 

There  was  more  talk  of  the  same  kind,  but  finally  the 
war  .committee  decided  to  send  us  on  to  Pittsfield  and 
let  the  recruiting  authorities  of  that  place  settle  the 
question  of  Taylor  and  Waterman's  eligibility. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

There  was  no  trouble  at  Pittsfield,  and  we  were  for- 
warded to  Boston  in  company  with  several  other 
recruits.  The  rendezvous  was  at  Camp  Meigs  in  Read- 
ville,  ten  miles  or  so  below  the  city.  Arriving  at  the 
camp  we  were  marched  to  the  barracks  of  Company  I, 
Third  Battalion,  First  Massachusetts  cavalry,  to  which 
company  we  had  been  assigned. 

When  we  entered  the  barracks  we  were  greeted  with 
cries  of  "  fresh  fish,"  etc.,  by  the  "  old  soldiers,"  some  of 
whom  had  reached  camp  only  a  few  days  before  our  ar- 
rival. We  accepted  the  situation,  and  were  ready  as 
soon  as  we  had  drawn  our  uniforms  to  join  in  similar 
greetings  to  later  arrivals.  The  barracks  were  one- 
story  board  buildings.  They  would  shed  rain,  but  the 
wind  made  itself  at  home  inside  the  structures  when 
there  was  a  storm,  so  there  was  plenty  of  ventilation. 
The  bunks  were  double-deckers,  arranged  for  two 
soldiers  in  each  berth. 

"  I'm  not  going  to  sleep  in  that  apple  bin  without 
you  give  me  a  bed,"  said  Taylor  to  the  corporal  who 
pointed  out  our  bunks. 

"  Young  man,  do  you  know  who  you're  speaking 
to  ?  "  thundered  the  corporal. 

"  No  ;  you  may  be  the  general  or  the  colonel  or  noth- 
ing but  a  corporal  "  — 

"'  Nothing  but  a  corporal  !  '  I'll  give  you  to  under- 
stand that  a  corporal  in  the  First  Massachusetts  cavalry 


DOWX    IN    DIXIE. 

is  not  to  be  insulted.  You  have  no  right  to  speak  to  me 
without  permission.  I'll  put  you  in  the  guard  house 
and  prefer  charges  against  you." 

"  See  here,"  said  Taylor.  "  Don't  you  fool  with  me. 
If  you  do  I'll  cuff  you." 

"  Mutiny  in  the  barracks,"  shouted  a  lance  sergeant 
who  heard  Giles's  threat  to  smite  the  corporal. 

The  first  sergeant  came  out  of  a  little  room  near  the 
door,  and  charged  down  toward  us  with  a  saber  in  his 
hand. 

"  What's  the  trouble  here  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  This  recruit  threatened  to  strike  me,"  replied  the 
corporal. 

"And  he  threatened  to  put  me  in  the  guard  house 
for  saying  I  wouldn't  sleep  in  that  box  without  a  bed," 
said  Taylor. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  the  articles  of  war  read  ?  "  asked 
the  sergeant. 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Well,  then,  we'll  let  you  go  this  time  ;  but  you've 
had  a  mighty  narrow  escape.  Had  you  struck  the  cor- 
poral the  penalty  would  have  been  death.  Never  talk 
back  to  an  officer." 

"  Golly !  that  was  a  close  call,"  whispered  Taylor, 
after  he  had  crawled  into  his  bunk. 

We  each  had  a  blanket  issued  to  us  for  that  night, 
but  the  next  day  straw  ticks  were  filled,  and  added  to  our 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

comfort.  Waterman  and  I  took  the  upper  bunk,  and 
Giles  slept  downstairs  alone  until  he  paired  with  Theo- 
dore C.  Horn  of  Williamstown,  another  new-comer. 

One  of  the  most  discouraging  experiences  that  a  re- 
cruit was  called  upon  to  face  before  he  reached  the  front 
was  the  drawing  of  his  outfit  —  receiving  his  uniform 
and  equipments.  I  speak  of  cavalry  recruits.  If  there 
ever  was  a  time  when  I  felt  homesick  and  regretted  that 
I  had  not  enlisted  in  the  infantry  it  was  the  morning  of 
the  second  day  after  our  arrival  at  Camp  Meigs.  I  re- 
call no  one  event  of  my  army  life  that  broke  me  up  so 
completely  as  did  this  experience.  I  had  drawn  a  uni- 
form in  the  Griswold  cavalry  at  Troy  before  my  father 
appeared  on  the  scene  with  a  habeas  corpus,  but  I  had 
not  been  called  on  to  take  charge  of  a  full  set  of  cavalry 
equipments.  If  I  had  been  perhaps  the  second  attack 
of  the  war  fever  would  not  have  come  so  soon. 

A  few  minutes  after  breakfast  the  first  sergeant  of 
Company  I  came  out  from  his  room  near  the  door  and 
shouted: 

"  Attention !  " 

"  Attention  !  "  echoed  the  duty  sergeants  and  cor- 
porals in  the  barracks. 

"  Recruits  of  Company  I  who  have  not  received  their 
uniforms  fall  in  this  way." 

A  dozen  "  Johnny  come  Latelys,"  including  the  Ber- 
lin trio,  fell  in  as  directed.     The  sergeant  entered  our 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

names  in  a  memorandum  book.  Then  we  were  turned 
over  to  a  corporal,  who  marched  us  to  the  quartermas- 
ter's office  where  we  stood  at  attention  for  an  hour  or 
so  while  the  requisition  for  our  uniforms  was  going 
through  the  red-tape  channels.  Finally  the  door  opened, 
and  a  dapper  young  sergeant  with  a  pencil  behind  his 
ear  informed  the  corporal  that  "all's  ready." 

The  names  were  called  alphabetically,  and  I  was  the 
first  of  the  squad  to  go  inside  to  receive  my  outfit. 

"Step  here  and  sign  these  vouchers  in  duplicate," 
said  the  sergeant. 

I  signed  the  papers.  The  sergeant  threw  the  differ- 
ent articles  of  the  uniform  and  equipments  in  a  heap  on 
the  floor,  asking  questions  and  answering  them  himself 
after  this  fashion  : 

"What  size  jacket  do  you  wear?  No.  i.  Here's  a 
No.  4  ;  it's  too  large,  but  you  can  get  the  tailor  to  alter  it. 

"  Here's  your  overcoat ;  it's  marked  No.  3,  but  the 
contractors  make  mistakes;   I've  no  doubt  it's  a  No.  1. 

"  That  forage  cap's  too  large,  but  you  can  put  paper 
in  the  lining. 

"  Never  mind  measuring  the  trousers  ;  if  they're  too 
long  you  can  have  'em  cut  off. 

"  The  shirts  and  drawers  will  fit  anybody  ;  they're 
made  that  way. 

"  You  wear  No.  6  boots,  but  you'll  get  so  much  drill 
your  feet'll  swell  so  these  No.  8's  will  be  just  the  fit. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  This  is  your  bed  blanket  ;  don't  get  it  mixed  with 
your  horse  blanket. 

"  I'll  let  you  have  my  canteen  and  break  in  the  new 
one;  mine's  been  used  a  little  and  got  jammed  a  bit, 
but  that  don't  hurt  it. 

"  This  is  your  haversack  ;  take  my  advice  and  always 
keep  it  full. 

"  This  white  piece  of  canvas  is  your  shelter  tent;  it 
is  warranted  to  shelter  you  from  the  rain  if  you  pitch  it 
inside  a  house  that  has  a  good  roof  on  it. 

"  These  stockings  are  rights  and  lefts. 

"  Here's  your  blouse.  We're  out  of  the  small  num- 
bers, but  it  is  to  be  worn  on  fatigue  and  at  stables,  so 
it's  better  to  have  plenty  of  room  in  your  blouse. 

"  You  will  get  white  gloves  at  the  sutler's  store  if 
you've  got  the  money  to  settle.  He'll  let  you  have  sand 
paper,  blacking,  brushes,  and  other  cleaning  materials  on 
the  same  terms. 

"  Here's  a  rubber  poncho. 

"  Let's  see  !  that's  all  in  the  clothing  line.  Now  for 
your  arms  and  accoutrements  !  " 

I  appealed  to  the  sergeant  : 

"  Let  me  carry  a  load  of  my  things  to  the  barracks 
before  receiving  my  arms  and  other  fixings  ?  " 

"  Can't  do  it  —  take  too  much  time  ;  and  if  you  did  go 
over  with  part  of  your  outfit,  somebody'd  steal  what  you 
left  in  the  barracks  before  vou  returned  with  the  rest." 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  Go  it,  then,"  I  exclaimed  in  despair,  and  the  ser- 
geant continued  : 

"This  carbine  is  just  the  thing  to  kill  rebels  with  if 
you  ever  get  near  enough  to  them.  It's  a  short-range 
weapon,  but  cavalrymen  are  supposed  to  ride  down  the 
enemy  at  short  range. 

"  The  carbine  sling  and  swivel  attaches  the  carbine 
over  your  shoulder. 

"  This  cartridge  box  will  be  filled  before  you  go  on 
the  skirmish  line  ;  so  will  the  cap  pouch. 

"  This  funny-looking  little  thing  with  a  string  at- 
tached is  a  wiper  with  which  to  keep  your  carbine 
clean  inside. 

"  The  screw-driver  will  be  handy  to  take  your  car- 
bine apart,  but  don't  do  it  when  near  the  enemy.  They 
might  scoop  you  in  before  you  could  put  your  gun 
together. 

"  Your  revolver  is  for  short-range  work.  You  can 
kill  six  rebels  with  it  without  reloading,  if  the  rebels 
will  hold  still  and  you  are  a  crack  shot.  You  can  keep 
the  pistol  in  this  holster  which  attaches  to  your  waist- 
belt,  as  does  also  this  box  for  pistol  cartridges. 

"  These  smaller  straps  are  to  hold  your  saber  scab- 
bard to  the  waist-belt,  and  this  strap  goes  over  the 
shoulder  to  keep  your  belt  from  slipping  down  around 
your  heels. 

"This  is  your  saber  inside  the  scabbard.      I've  no 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

doubt  it's  inscribed  '  Never  draw  me  without  cause  or 
sheathe  me  with  dishonor,'  but  we  can't  stop  to  look  at 
it  now.  If  it  isn't  inscribed,  ask  your  first  sergeant 
about  it.  The  saber  knot  completes  this  part  of  the  out- 
fit. The  saber  is  pretty  big  for  you,  but  we're  out  of 
children's  sizes.     The  horse  furniture  comes  next." 

"  Will  you  please  let  Taylor  and  Waterman  come  in 
here  and  help  me  ?  "   I  petitioned  to  the  sergeant. 

"  Everybody  for  himself  is  the  rule  in  the  army," 
said  the  sergeant.  "  Tie  up  your  clothing  and  arms  in 
your  bed  blanket.  You  can  put  your  horse  furniture  in 
your  saddle  blanket." 

Section  1,620  of  the  "  Revised  United  States  Army 
Regulations  of  1861,  with  an  Appendix  Containing  the 
Changes  and  Laws  Affecting  Army  Regulations  and 
Articles  of  War  to  June  25,  1863,"  reads  as  follows: 

"  A  complete  set  of  horse  equipments  for  mounted 
troops  consists  of  1  bridle,  1  watering  bridle,  1  halter,  1 
saddle,  1  pair  saddle-bags,  1  saddle  blanket,  1  surcingle, 
1  pair  spurs,  1  curry-comb,  1  horse  brush,  1  picket  pin, 
and  1  lariat ;  1  link  and  1  nose  bag  when  specially 
required." 

The  section  reads  smoothly  enough.  There  is  noth- 
ing formidable  about  it  to  the  civilian.  But,  ah  me  ! 
Surviving  troopers  of  the  great  conflict  will  bear  me  out 
when  I  say  that  section  1,620  aforesaid,  stands  for  a 
great  deal  more  than  it  would  be  possible  for  the  unini- 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

tiated  to  comprehend  at  one  sitting.  The  bridle,  for  in- 
stance, is  composed  of  one  headstall,  one  bit,  one  pair  of 
reins.  And  the  headstall  is  composed  of  "  i  crown 
piece,  the  ends  split,  forming  i  cheek  strap  and  i  throat 
lash  billet  on  one  side,  and  on  the  other  i  cheek  strap 
and  i  throat  lash,  with  i  buckle,  .625-inch,  2  chapes  and 
2  buckles,  .75-inch,  sewed  to  the  ends  of  cheek  piece  to 
attach  the  bit ;  1  brow  band,  the  ends  doubled  and 
sewed  from  two  loops  on  each  end  through  which  the 
cheek  straps  and  throat  lash  and  throat  lash  billet  pass." 

So  much  for  the  headstall.  It  would  take  three 
times  the  space  given  to  the  headstall  to  describe  the 
bit,  and  then  come  the  reins.  The  watering  bridle  "  is 
composed  of  1  bit  and  1  pair  of  reins."  The  halter's  de- 
scription uses  up  one  third  of  a  page.  "  The  saddle  is 
composed  of  1  tree,  2  saddle  skirts,  2  stirrups,  1  girth 
and  girth  strap,  1  surcingle,  1  crupper."  Two  pages  of 
the  regulations  are  required  to  describe  the  different 
pieces  that  go  to  make  up  the  saddle  complete,  and 
which  include  six  coat  straps,  one  carbine  socket,  saddle 
skirts,  saddle-bags,  saddle  blanket,  etc.  The  horse 
brush,  curry-comb,  picket  pin,  lariat,  link  and  nose  bag 
all  come  in  for  detailed  descriptions,  each  with  its 
separate  pieces. 

Let  it  be  borne  in  mind  that  all  these  articles  were 
thrown  into  a  heap  on  the  floor,  and  that  every  strap, 
buckle,   ring  and  other  separate   piece   not   riveted  or 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

sewed  together  was  handed  out  by  itself,  the  sergeant 
rattling  on  like  a  parrot  all  the  time,  and  perhaps  a  faint 
idea  of  the  situation  may  be  obtained.  But  the  real 
significance  of  the  event  can  only  be  understood  by  the 
troopers  who  "  were  there." 

As  I  emerged  from  the  quartermaster's  office  I  was 
a  sight  to  behold.  Before  I  had  fairly  left  the  building 
my  bundles  broke  loose  and  my  military  effects  were 
scattered  all  around.  By  using  the  loose  straps  and  sur- 
cingle I  managed  to  pack  my  outfit  in  one  bundle. 
But  it  was  a  large  one,  just  about  all  I  could  lift. 

When  I  got  into  the  barracks  I  was  very  much  dis- 
couraged. What  to  do  with  the  things  was  a  puzzle 
to  me.  I  distributed  them  in  the  bunk,  and  began  to 
speculate  on  how  I  could  ever  put  all  those  little  straps 
and  buckles  together.  The  more  I  studied  over  it  the 
more  complicated  it  seemed.  I  would  begin  with  the 
headstall  of  the  bridle.  Having  been  raised  on  a  farm 
I  had  knowledge  of  double  and  single  harness  to  some 
extent,  but  the  bridles  and  halters  that  I  had  seen  were 
not  of  the  cavalry  pattern.  After  I  had  buckled  the 
straps  together  I  would  have  several  pieces  left  with  no 
buckles  to  correspond.     It  was  like  the  fifteen-puzzle. 

As  I  was  manipulating  the  straps  Taylor  arrived 
with  his  outfit.  He  threw  the  bundle  down  in  the 
lower  bunk,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  I  wish  I'd  staid  to  home." 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  So  do  I,  Giles." 

"  Where's  Theodore  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  seen  him  since  I  left  him  at  the  quarter- 
master's." 

"  He  got  his  things  before  I  did  and  started  for  the 
barracks." 

Taylor  left  his  bundle  and  went  in  search  of  Horn 
who  was  found  near  the  cook-house.  His  pack  had 
broken  loose,  and  he  was  too  much  disgusted  to  go  any 
further.  Taylor  assisted  him,  and  they  reached  the 
bunk  about  the  time  Waterman  arrived.  We  held  a 
council  of  war,  and  decided  to  defer  action  on  the  horse 
furniture  till  the  next  day. 

"  We'll  tog  ourselves  out  in  these  soldier-clothes  and 
let  the  harness  alone  till  we're  ordered  to  tackle  it,"  said 
Taylor,  and  we  all  assented. 

"  Attention  !  " 

The  orderly  sergeant  again  appeared. 

"  The  recruits  who  have  just  drawn  their  uniforms 
will  fall  in  outside  for  inspection  with  their  uniforms  on 
in  ten  minutes  !  " 

There  was  no  time  for  ceremony.  Off  went  our 
home  clothes  and  we  donned  the  regulation  uniforms. 
Four  sorrier-looking  boys  in  blue  could  not  have  been 
found  in  Camp  Meigs.  And  we  were  blue  in  more 
senses  than  one.  Mv  forage  cap  set  down  over  my  head 
and  rested  on  my  ears.     The  collar  to  my  jacket  came 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

up  to  the  cap,  and  I  only  had  a  "  peek  hole  "  in  front. 
The  sleeves  of  the  jacket  were  too  long  by  nearly  a  foot, 
and  the  legs  of  the  pantaloons  were  ditto.  The  Govern- 
ment did  not  furnish  suspenders,  and  as  I  had  none  I 
used  some  of  the  saddle  straps  to  hold  my  clothes  on. 
Taylor  could  not  get  his  boots  on,  and  Horn  discovered 
that  both  of  his  boots  were  lefts.  He  got  them  on,  how- 
ever. When  Waterman  put  on  his  overcoat  it  covered 
him  from  head  to  foot,  the  skirts  dragging  the  floor. 
Before  we  had  got  on  half  our  things  the  order  came  to 
"fall  in  outside,"  and  out  we  went.  Taylor  had  his  Gov- 
ernment boots  in  his  hands,  as  a  corporal  had  informed 
him  that  if  he  turned  out  with  citizen's  boots  on  after 
having  received  his  uniform  he  would  be  tied  up  by  the 
thumbs.     So  he  turned  out  in  his  stocking  feet. 

We  were  "  right  dressed  "  and  "  fronted  "  by  the  first 
sergeant,  who  reported  to  the  captain  that  the  squad  was 
formed.  The  captain  advanced  and  began  with  Taylor, 
who  was  the  tallest  of  the  squad,  and  therefore  stood  on 
the  right. 

"  Where  are  your  boots  ?  " 

"  Here,"  replied  the  frightened  recruit,  holding  them 
out  from  under  the  cape  of  his  great  coat. 

"  Fall  out  and  put  them  on." 

"  I  can't." 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  I  wear  nines  and  these  are  sevens." 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  Corporal,  take  this  man  to  the  quartermaster's  and 
have  the  boots  changed." 

Taylor  trotted  off,  pleased  to  get  away  from  the  offi- 
cer, who  next  turned  his  attention  to  Horn. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  your  right  foot ;  are  you 
left-handed  in  it  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  they  gave  me  both  lefts." 

"  Sergeant,  send  this  man  to  the  quartermaster's  and 
have  the  mistake  rectified." 

Waterman  was  next  in  line. 

"  Who's  inside  this  overcoat  ?  "  demanded  the  captain. 

"  It's  me,  sir  —  private  Waterman." 

"  Couldn't  you  get  a  smaller  overcoat  ?  " 

"  They  said  it  would  fit  me,  and  I  had  no  time  to  try 
it  on." 

"  Sergeant,  have  that  man's  coat  changed  at  once. 
Fall  out,  private  Waterman." 

Then  came  my  turn.  The  captain  looked  me  over. 
My  make-up  was  too  much  for  his  risibility. 

"  Where  did  you  come  from  ?  "  he  asked,  after  the 
first  explosion. 

"  Berlin." 

"  Where's  that  ?  " 

"  York  State." 

"  Well,  you  go  with  the  sergeant  to  the  quartermas- 
ter and  see  if  you  can't  find  a  rig  that  will  come  nearer 
fitting  you  than  this  outfit." 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

I  was  glad  to  obey  orders,  and  after  the  captain's 
compliments  had  been  presented  to  the  quartermaster, 
directions  were  given  to  supply  me  with  a  uniform  that 
would  fit.  Although  the  order  could  not  be  literally 
complied  with,  I  profited  by  the  exchange,  and  the  sec- 
ond outfit  was  made  to  do  after  it  had  been  altered 
somewhat  by  a  tailor,  and  the  sleeves  of  the  jacket  and 
the  legs  of  the  trousers  had  been  shortened. 

The  captain  did  not  "  jump  on  us  "  as  we  had  ex- 
pected. The  self-styled  old  soldiers  had  warned  us  that 
we  would  be  sent  to  the  guard  house.  The  captain  had 
seen  service  at  the  front,  and  had  been  through  the  mill 
as  a  recruit  when  the  First  Battalion  was  organized.  He 
knew  that  it  was  not  the  fault  of  the  privates  that  their 
clothes  did  not  fit  them.  This  fact  seemed  to  escape 
the  attention  of  many  commissioned  officers,  and  not  a 
few  recruits  were  censured  in  the  presence  of  their  com- 
rades by  thoughtless  captains,  because  the  boys  had  not 
been  built  to  fill  out  jackets  and  trousers  that  had  been 
made  by  basting  together  pieces  of  cloth  cut  on  the  bias 
and  every  other  style,  but  without  any  regard  to  shapes, 
sizes  or  patterns. 


CHAPTER    III. 

The  Buglers  Drill— Getting  Used  to  the  Calls  —  No  E en- for 
Music  —  A  Visitor  from  Home  —  A  Basket  full  of  Goodies  — 
Taking  Tintypes  —  A  Special  Artist  at  the  Battle  of  Bull 
Run  —  Horses  for  the  Troopers  —  Revicivcd  by  a  War  Governor 
—  Leaving  Camp  Meigs  —  A  Mothers  Prayers  —  The  Eman- 
cipation Proclamation  —  Lincoln  s  Vow — The  War  Gover- 
nors' Address. 


HOULD  there  be  living  to-day  a  sur- 
vivor of  Sheridan's  Cavalry  Corps  of  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac  who  can,  without 
shuddering,  recall  the  buglers'  drill,  his 
probationary  period  on  earth  must  be 
rapidly  drawing  to  a  close.  I  do  not 
mean  the  regular  bugle  calls  of  camp  or 
those  sounded  on  company  or  battalion  parade.  I  refer 
to  the  babel  of  bugle  blasts  kept  up  by  the  recruit 
"musicians"  from  the  sounding  of  the  first  call  for 
reveille  till  taps.  A  majority  of  the  boys  enlisted  as 
buglers  could  not  at  first  make  a  noise  —  not  even  a  lit- 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

tie  toot — on  their  instruments,  but  when,  under  the 
instruction  of  a  veteran  bugler,  the}-  had  mastered  the 
art  of  filling  their  horns  and  producing  sound  they 
made  up  for  lost  time  with  a  vengeance.  And  what  a 
chorus!  Reveille,  stable  call,  breakfast  call,  sick  call, 
drill  call  retreat,  tattoo,  taps  —  all  the  calls,  or  what 
the  little  fellows  could  do  at  them,  were  sounded  at  one 
time  with  agonizing  effect. 

The  first  sergeant  of  Company  I  said  to  me  one  day 
while  we  were  in  Camp  Meigs  : 

"  The  adjutant  wants  more  buglers,  and  he  spoke  of 
you  as  being  one  of  the  light  weights  suitable  for  the 
job.     You  may  go  and  report  to  the  adjutant." 

"  I  didn't  enlist  to  be  a  bugler  ;  I'm  a  full-fledged 
soldier." 

"  But  you're  young  enough  to  bugle." 

"  I'm  twenty-one  on  the  muster-roll.  I  want  to  serve 
in  the  ranks." 

"  Can't  help  it ;  you'll  have  to  try  your  hand." 

I  reported  to  the  adjutant  as  directed,  and  was  sent 
with  a  half-dozen  other  recruits  to  be  tested  by  the 
chief  trumpeter.  After  a  trial  of  ten  minutes  the  in- 
structor discovered  that  there  was  no  promise  of  my  de- 
velopment into  a  bugler,  and  he  said  with  considerable 
emphasis : 

"  You  go  back  mit  you  to  de  adjutant  and  tell  him 
dot  vou  no  got  one  ear  for  de  music." 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

I  was  glad  to  report  back  to  the  company,  for  I  pre- 
ferred to  serve  as  a  private. 

The  recruits  soon  became  familiar  with  the  sound  of 
the  bugle.  The  first  call  in  the  morning  was  buglers' 
call  —  or  first  call  for  reveille.  The  notes  would  be 
sounding  in  the  barracks  when  the  first  sergeant,  all  the 
duty  sergeants  and  the  corporals  would  yell  out : 

"  Turn  out  for  reveille  roll-call !  " 

"  Be  lively,  now  —  turn  out!  " 

As  a  result  of  this  shouting  by  the  "  non-coms  "  the 
boys  soon  began  to  pay  no  attention  to  the  bugle  call, 
but  naturally  waited  till  they  heard  the  signal  to  "  turn 
out "  given  by  the  sergeants  and  corporals.  And  in  a 
very  short  time  they  ceased  to  hear  the  bugle  when  the 
first  call  was  sounded. 

In  active  service  in  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  so 
familiar  with  the  calls  did  the  soldiers  become  that  when 
cavalry  and  infantry  were  bivouacked  together,  and  the 
long  roll  was  sounded  by  the  drummers,  it  would  not  be 
heard  by  the  troopers,  and  when  the  cavalry  buglers 
blew  their  calls  the  foot  soldiers  would  sleep  undisturbed. 
In  front  of  Petersburg  troops  would  sleep  soundly 
within  ten  feet  of  a  heavy  battery  that  was  firing  shot 
and  shell  into  the  enemy's  works  all  night.  But  let  one 
of  the  guards  on  the  line  of  breastworks  behind  which 
they  were  "  dreaming  of  home  "  discharge  his  musket, 
and  the  sleepers  would  be  in  line  ready  for  battle  almost 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  And  let  the  cavalry  trum- 
peter make  the  least  noise  on  his  bugle,  and  the  troop- 
ers would  hear  it  at  once. 

A  few  weeks  before  our  battalion  left  Camp  Meigs 
for  the  front  Mrs.  E.  L.  Waterman  of  Berlin,  mother  of 
Irving  Waterman,  paid  us  a  visit.  She  brought  with 
her  a  basket  full  of  goodies.  Home-made  pies,  bread, 
butter,  cheese,  cookies  and  fried  cakes  were  included  in 
the  supplies.  She  took  up  her  quarters  at  the  picture 
gallery  of  Mr.  Holmes,  the  camp  photographer,  and  we 
went  to  see  her  as  often  as  our  duties  would  permit. 
She  brought  us  socks  knit  by  our  friends  at  home,  and 
many  articles  for  our  comfort.  About  the  first  thing 
she  said  was  :  "  My  boys,  what  do  they  give  you  to  eat  ?  " 

"  Bread  and  meat  and  beans  and  coffee,"  we  an- 
swered. 

"  No  butter  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  I  thought  not.  I  had  heard  the  soldiers  had  to 
eat  their  bread  without  butter,  with  nothing  but  coffee 
to  wash  it  down,  so  I  brought  you  a  few  pounds  of 
butter." 

And  the  dear  woman  remained  at  the  gallery,  and 
Irving  and  I  would  drop  over  and  eat  the  good  things 
she  fixed  for  us.  If  we  had  taken  our  commissary  stores 
to  the  barracks  they  would  have  been  stolen. 

Mrs.  Waterman  asked  Irving  and  mvself  to  have  our 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

pictures  taken.  Neither  of  us  had  ever  been  photo- 
graphed or  tintyped,  but  we  took  kindly  to  the  idea. 
We  sat  together,  and  the  picture,  a  tintype,  was  pro- 
nounced an  excellent  likeness.  What  a  trying  perform- 
ance it  was,  though  !  We  were  all  braced  up  with  an 
iron  rest  back  of  the  head,  and  told  to  "  look  about 
there  —  you  can  wink,  but  don't  move."  Of  course  the 
tintype  presented  the  subject  as  one  appears  when  look- 
ing into  a  mirror.  The  right  hand  was  the  left,  and  our 
buttons  were  on  the  wrong  side  in  the  picture.  But 
Mrs.  Waterman  declared  the  tintype  to  be  "  as  near 
like  them  as  two  peas,"  and  we  accepted  her  verdict. 
The  dear  old  lady  has  kept  that  picture  all  these  years. 
The  soldier  boys  resorted  to  all  sorts  of  expedients 
to  "  beat  the  machine."  That  is,  to  so  arrange  their 
arms  and  accoutrements  that  when  the  tintype  was 
taken  it  would  not  be  upside  down  or  wrong  end  to. 
To  this  end  the  saber-belt  would  be  put  on  wrong  side 
up  so  that  the  scabbard  would  hang  on  the  right  side  — 
that  would  bring  it  on  the  left  side,  where  it  belonged 
in  the  picture.  I  tried  that  plan  one  day  and  then  stood 
at  "parade  rest,"  with  the  saber  in  front  of  me.  I  put 
back  my  left  foot  instead  of  my  right  to  stand  in  that 
position,  and  when  the  picture  was  presented,  I  con- 
gratulated myself  that  I  had  made  a  big  hit.  But  when  I 
showed  it  to  an  old  soldier  in  the  company  he  humiliated 
me  by  the  remark  : 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  It's  all  very  fine  for  a  recruit,  but  a  soldier  wouldn't 
hold  his  saber  with  his  left  hand  and  put  his  right  hand 
over  it  at  parade  rest." 

Sure  enough.  I  had  changed  my  feet  to  make  them 
appear  all  right,  but  had  forgotten  the  hands.  But  re- 
cruits were  not  supposed  to  know  everything  on  the 
start. 

We  had  photographs  taken  as  well  as  tintypes.  But 
the  art  of  photography  has  greatly  improved  since  the 
war.  Most  of  the  photographs  of  that  da}'  that  I  have 
seen  of  late  are  badly  faded,  and  it  is  next  to  impossible 
to  have  a  good  copy  made.  Not  so  with  the  tintypes. 
They  remain  unfaded,  and  excellent  photographic  copies 
can  be  secured.  In  many  a  home  to-day  hang  the  pict- 
ures of  the  soldier  boy,  some  of  them  life-sized  portraits 
copied  from  the  tintypes  taken  in  the  days  of  the  war. 

I  know  homes  where  the  gray-haired  mothers  still 
cling  to  the  little  tintype  picture — the  only  likeness 
they  have  of  a  darling  boy  who  was  offered  as  a  sacrifice 
for  liberty.  How  tenderly  the  picture  is  handled  ! 
How  sacredly  the  mother  has  preserved  it !  The  hinges 
of  the  frame  are  broken  —  worn  out  with  constant  open- 
ing. The  clasp  is  gone.  The  plush  that  lined  the 
frame  opposite  the  picture  is  faded  and  worn.  But  the 
face  of  the  boy  is  there.  Surviving  veterans  understand 
something  of  the  venerable  lady's  meaning  when  she  puts 
the  picture  to  her  lips  and  with  tears  in  her  eyes  says: 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  Yes,  he  was  only  a  boy.  I  couldn't  consent  to  let 
him  go,  and  I  couldn't  say  no.  I  could  only  pray  that 
he  would  come  back  to  me  —  if  it  were  God's  will.  He 
didn't  come  back.  But  they  said  he  did  his  duty. 
He  died  in  a  noble  cause,  but  it  was  hard  to  say  '  Thy 
will  be  done,'  at  first,  when  the  news  came  that  he'd 
been  killed.  I'm  so  thankful  I  have  his  picture  —  the 
only  one  he  ever  had  taken.  He  was  a  Christian  boy, 
and  they  wrote  me  that  his  last  words  as  his  comrades 
stood  about  him  under  a  tree  where  he  had  been  borne, 
were,  that  he  died  in  the  hope  of  a  glorious  resurrection, 
and  that  mother  would  find  him  in  Heaven  to  welcome 
her  when  she  came.  There's  comfort  in  that.  And 
I'll  soon  be  there.  I  shall  meet  my  boy  again,  and  there 
will  be  no  more  separation.      No  more  cruel  rebellions." 

The  early  war-time  pictures  are  curiosities  to-day, 
particularly  to  veterans  who  study  them.  Not  a  few  of 
the  special  artists  of  the  first  year  of  the  war  seemed  to 
have  gained  whatever  knowledge  of  the  appearance  of 
troops  in  battle  array  that  they  had  from  tintype  pict- 
ures. I  have  before  me  as  I  write,  a  battle  scene 
"sketched  by  our  special  artist  at  the  front."  The  offi- 
cers all  wear  their  swords  on  the  right  side,  and  in  the 
foreground  is  an  officer  mounting  his  horse  from  the  off 
side  —  a  feat  never  attempted  in  military  experience  but 
once,  to  my  knowledge,  and  then  by  a  militia  officer  on 
the  staff  of  a  Trov  general,  since  the  war.      In  some  of 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

these  pictorial  papers  of  the  early  war-days  armies  are 
represented  marching  into  battle  in  full-dress  uniform 
and  with  unbroken  step  and  perfect  alignment. 

One  thing,  however,  always  puzzled  me  in  these  pict- 
ures—  before  I  went  to  war — and  that  was  how  the 
infantry  could  march  with  measured  tread — regulation 
step  of  twenty-eight  inches,  and  only  one  hundred  and 
ten  steps  per  minute  —  and  keep  up  with  the  major- 
generals  and  other  officers  of  high  rank  who  appeared 
in  front  of  their  men,  and  with  their  horses  on  a  dead 
run  in  the  direction  of  the  enemy  !  These  heroic  leaders 
always  rode  with  their  hats  in  one  hand  and  their  swords 
in  the  other,  so  there  was  no  chance  for  them  to  hold  in 
their  horses.  But  the  puzzle  ceased  to  be  a  puzzle  when 
I  reached  the  front.  I  found  that  the  special  artists  had 
drawn  on  their  imagination  instead  of  "  on  the  spot," 
and  that  it  was  not  customary  for  commanding  generals 
to  get  in  between  the  contending  lines  of  battle  and 
slash  right  and  left  and  cut  up  as  the  artists  had  repre- 
sented. In  the  majority  of  cases,  great  battles  were 
fought  bv  generals  on  both  sides  who  were  in  position 
to  watch,  so  far  as  possible,  the  whole  line  of  battle,  and 
to  be  ready  to  direct  such  movements  and  changes  as 
were  demanded  by  the  progress  of  the  fight.  To  do 
this  they  must  necessarily  be  elsewhere  than  in  front 
of  their  armies,  riding  down  the  enemy's  skirmishers, 
and  leaping  their  horses  over  cannon. 


DOWN    IX    DIXIE. 


It  is  possible,  however,  that  the  special  artists  did 
not  fully  understand  the  danger  to  which  a  command- 
ing general  would  be  exposed,  galloping  around  on  his 
charger  between  the  armies  just  coming  together  in  a 
terrible  clash.  At  any  rate,  the  specials  were  willing  to 
take  their  chances  with  their  heroes  —  on  paper.  I 
have  in  my  possession  a  picture  of  the  "  Commence- 
ment of  the  Action  at  Bull  Run  —  Sherman's  Battery 
Engaging  the  Enemy's  Masked  Battery."  In  this 
picture,  sketched  by  an  artist  whose  later  productions 
were  among  the  best  illustrations  of  actual  warfare,  the 
officers  are,  very  considerately,  placed  in  rear  of  the 
battery.  But  in  front  of  the  line  of  battle,  in  advance 
of  the  cannon  that  are  belching  forth  their  deadly  fire, 
stands  the  special  artist,  sketching  "on  the  spot." 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  stir  in  Camp  Meigs  the 
day  that  horses  were  issued  to  the  battalion.  The  men 
were  new,  and  sq  were  the  horses.  It  did  not  take  a 
veteran  cavalrvman  but  a  clay  or  two  to  break  in  a  new 
horse.  But  it  was  different  with  recruits.  The  chances 
were  that  their  steeds  would  break  them  in. 

I  had  had  some  experience  with  horses  on  a  farm  — 
riding  to  cultivate  corn,  rake  hay  and  the  like  —  but  I 
had  never  struggled  for  the  mastery  with  a  fiery,  un- 
tamed war-horse.  Our  steeds  were  in  good  condition 
when  they  arrived  at  the  camp,  and  they  did  not  get 
exercise  enough  after  they  came  to  take  any  of  the  life 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

out  of  them.  The  first  time  we  practiced  on  them  with 
curry-comb  and  brush,  the  horses  kicked  us  around  the 
stables  ad  libitum.  One  recruit  had  all  his  front  teeth 
knocked  out.  But  we  became  better  acquainted  with 
our  chargers  day  by  day,  and  although  we  started  for 
Washington  a  few  days  after  our  horses  had  been  issued, 
some  of  us  attained  to  a  confidence  of  our  ability  to 
manage  the  animals  that  was  remarkable,  considering 
the  fact  that  we  were  thrown  twice  out  of  three  times 
whenever  we  attempted  to  ride. 

One  day  orders  came  for  us  to  get  ready  to  go  to 
the  front.  None  but  old  soldiers  can  appreciate  the 
feelings  of  recruits  under  such  circumstances.  All  was 
bustle  and  confusion.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  the 
hip,  hip,  hip,  hurrah  !  on  the  surface,  but  there  was  also 
a  feeling  of  dread  uncertainty  — perhaps  that  expresses 
it  —  in  the  breasts  of  many  of  the  troopers.  They 
would  not  admit  it,  though.  The  average  recruit  was 
as  brave  as  a  lion  to  all  outward  appearances,  and  if  he 
did  have  palpitation  of  the  heart  when  orders  came  to 
go  "On  to  Richmond"  —  as  any  advance  toward  the 
front  was  designated  —  the  fact  was  not  given  out  for 
publication. 

The  first  thing  in  order  was  a  general  inspection  to 
satisfy  the  officers,  whose  duty  it  was  to  see  that  regi- 
ments sent  out  from  the  Old  Bay  State  were  properly 
armed   and   equipped,   that  we   were   in   a  condition   to 


DOWN    IN    DIXIK. 


begin  active  service.  After  all  our  belongings  were 
packed  on  our  saddles  in  the  barracks,  before  we  took 
them  over  to  the  stables  to  saddle  up,  the  department 
commander  with 
his  inspecting  offi- 
cers examined  our 
kits.  As  originally 
packed,  the  sad- 
dles of  a  majority 
of  the  troopers 
were  loaded  so 
heavily  that  it 
would  have  re- 
quired four  men 
to  a  saddle  to  get 
one  of  the  packs 
on  the  horse's 
back.  When  the 
inspection  w  a  s 
completed,  each 
trooper  could  han- 
dle his  own  saddle. 

The  following 
articles  were 
thrown    out    of    my    collection    by    the     inspectors:  — 

Two   boiled    shirts  ;    one    pair    calfskin    shoes  ;  two 
boxes  paper  collars  ;  one  vest ;  one  big  neck  scarf;  one 


H.&-> 


IN    THE    SADDLE. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

bed  quilt ;  one  feather  pillow  ;  one  soft  felt  hat ;  one  tin 
wash  basin  ;  one  cap  —  not  regulation  pattern  ;  one  camp 
stool  —  folding;  one  blacking  brush  —  extra;  two  cans 
preserves  ;  one  bottle  cologne  ;  one  pair  slippers  ;  one 
pair  buckskin  mittens ;  three  fancy  neckties ;  one  pair 
saddle-bags  —  extra;  one  tin  pan;  one  bottle  hair  oil; 
one  looking-glass;  one  checker-board;  one  haversack  — 
extra  —  filled  with  home  victuals  ;  one  peck  bag  walnuts  ; 
one  hammer. 

Some  of  the  boys  had  packed  up  more  extras  than 
I  had,  and  it  went  against  the  grain  to  part  with  them. 
But  the  inspectors  knew  their  business  —  and  ours,  too, 
better  than  we,  as  we  subsequently  discovered  —  and  we 
were  made  to  understand  that  we  were  not  going  on  a 
pleasure  excursion.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that 
there  was  scarcely  an  article  thrown  out  by  the  inspec- 
tors that  the  soldiers  would  not  have  thrown  away 
themselves  on  their  first  expedition  into  the  enemy's 
country. 

After  we  had  been  inspected  and  trimmed  down  by 
the  officers,  we  were  reviewed  by  Governor  John  A. 
Andrew.  He  was  attended  by  his  staff,  the  department 
commander  and  other  officers.  Each  company  was 
drawn  up  in  line  in  its  barracks  —  it  was  sleeting  outside. 
As  the  governor  came  into  our  quarters,  the  captain  gave 
the  command,  "  Uncover !"  and  the  company  stood  at 
attention  as  the  chief  executive  of  the  Old  Bay  State 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

walked  slowly  down  the  line,  scanning  the  faces  of  the 
men. 

I  remember  that  the  governor  looked  at  me  with  a 
sort  of  "  Where-did-you-come-from,  Bub  ?  "  expression, 
and  I  began  to  fear  that  my  time  had  come  to  go  home. 
The  governor  said  to  a  staff  officer  : 

"  Some  of  the  men  seem  rather  young,  Colonel !  " 

"Yes,  sir;  the  cavalry  uniform  makes  a  man  look 
younger  than  he  is." 

"  I  see.  They  are  a  fine  body  of  men,  and  I  have 
no  doubt  we  shall  hear  of  their  doing  good  service  at 
the  front." 

A  few  words  of  encouragement  were  spoken  by  the 
governor,  and  he  passed  on  to  the  barracks  of  the  next 
company. 

It  strikes  me  that  Governor  Andrew  reviewed  us 
again  as  we  were  marching  from  the  barracks  to  the 
railroad  station,  but  I  am  not  clear  on  this  point.  I 
know  there  was  a  good  deal  of  martial  music,  waving  of 
flags,  cheering  and  speech-making  by  somebody.  Our 
horses  claimed  our  undivided  attention  till  after  we  had 
dismounted  and  put  them  aboard  the  cars.  On  the  way 
down  to  the  railroad  an  attempt  was  made  somewhere 
near  the  barracks  to  form  in  line,  so  that  we  could  be 
addressed  by  the  governor  or  some  other  dignitary.  It 
was  a  dismal  failure.  Our  steeds  seemed  to  be  inspired 
by  "  Hail  to  the  Chief,"  "  The  Girl  I  Left  Behind  Me," 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

and  other  patriotic  tunes  played  by  the  band,. and  they 
pranced  around,  stood  upon  their  hind  legs  and  pawed 
the  air  with  their  fore  feet,  to  the  great  terror  of  the  re- 
cruits and  the  delight  of  all  the  boys  in  the  neighbor- 
hood who  had  gathered  to  witness  our  departure.  How 
the  boys  shouted  ! 

"  Hi,  Johnny,  it's  better'n  a  circus!" 

"Guess  'tis  —  they  don't  fall  off  in  a  circus;  they 
just  make  b'lief." 

"  Well,  these  fellows  stick  tight  for  new  hands." 

It  was  fun  for  the  boys — the  spectators  —  but  just 
where  the  laugh  came  in  the  recruits  failed  to  discover. 
I  was  told  that  the  governor  —  or  somebody  —  gave  us 
his  blessing  as  we  rode  by  the  reviewing  officer,  but  I 
have  no  personal  knowledge  on  the  subject. 

After  we  had  put  our  horses  on  board  we  waited  a 
few  minutes  before  entering  the  cars  while  the  other 
companies  were  boarding  the  train.  There  was  a  chain 
of  sentinels  around  us,  and  Mrs.  Waterman  was  outside 
the  line.  She  caught  sight  of  us  as  we  stood  there,  and 
she  advanced  toward  us. 

"Halt  —  you  can't  go  through  here!"  commanded 
one  of  the  sentinels. 

"  I  must  go  through." 

"  But  my  orders  "  — 

"  I  don't  care;  my  boys  are  there,  and  I'm  going  to 
speak  to  them  again." 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

She  came  through  and  gave  us  her  parting  blessing 
once  more. 

"  Boys,  I'll  pray  God  to  keep  you  and  bring  you 
both  back  to  your  mothers  —  God  bless  you;  good-by." 
The  mother's  prayers  were  answered.  Her  son  and  his 
tentmate  were  spared  to  return  at  the  close  of  the  war. 

There  was  a  scramble  to  secure  seats  when  orders 
were  given  to  board  the  cars.  Good-bys  were  said. 
Mothers,  wives  and  sweethearts  were  there,  and  with 
many  it  was  the  last  farewell.  The  whistle  blew,  the 
bells  rang,  the  band  played,  the  troops  remaining  at 
Camp  Meigs  cheered  and  we  cheered  back.  The  train 
moved  away  from  the  station,  and  we  were  off  for  the 
front. 

I  never  saw  Governor  Andrew  again,  but  I  recall 
his  appearance  as  he  reviewed  our  company  in  the  bar- 
racks very  distinctly.  I  observed  that  while  inspecting 
officers  paid  more  attention  to  the  arms  and  accoutre- 
ments of  the  men  the  governor  was  particular  in  look- 
ing into  the  faces  of  the  recruits,  to  satisfy  himself,  no 
doubt,  that  they  could  be  trusted  to  uphold  the  honor  of 
the  State  when  the  tug  of  war  should  come.  John  A. 
Andrew  was  one  of  the  "  war  governors  "  whose  loyal  sup- 
port of  President  Lincoln's  emancipation  programme 
held  the  Northern  States  in  line  when  the  time  came  for 
the  President  to  issue  the  proclamation  that  freed  the 
slaves  of  the  States  in  rebellion  against  the  Government. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 


The  proclamation  was  promulgated  September  22, 
1862,  a  few  days  after  the  battle  of  Antietam.  It  is  on 
record  that  Lincoln  had  made  the  draft  of  the  document 


HALT — YOU    CAN'T    GO    THROUGH    HEKK 


in  July,  and  had  held  it,  waiting  for  a  Union  victory, 
that  he  might  give  it  to  the  country  at  the  same  time 
that  a  decisive  defeat  of  the  rebels  was  announced. 
The  second  battle  of  Bull  Run  came,  and  Pope's  shat- 
tered army  retreated  into  the  works  around  the  national 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

capital.  Lee,  with  his  victorious  followers,  crossed  the 
Potomac  into  Maryland.  The  Confederate  chief  hoped 
to  rally  the  disloyal  element  in  that  State  and  along  the 
border  under  the  rebel  flag.  It  began  to  look  as  though 
the  victory  Lincoln  was  waiting  for  would  never  come. 
It  was  one  of  the  darkest  hours  of  the  conflict.  What 
would  have  been  the  effect  of  issuing  the  Emancipation 
Proclamation  at  that  time  ?  The  rebels  had  invaded 
the  North!  The  Union  army  had  been  defeated  — 
everything  seemed  to  be  going  to  destruction  ! 

Lincoln  is  credited  with  saying  in  respect  of  the 
rebels  crossing  the  Potomac  just  before  the  battle  of 
Antietam : 

"  I  made  a  solemn  vow  before  God,  that  if  General 
Lee  were  driven  back  from  Maryland,  I  would  crown 
the  result  by  a  declaration  of  freedom  to  the  slaves." 

September  24,  iS62,two  clays  after  the  proclamation 
was  issued,  Governor  Andrew,  with  the  governors  of 
other  loyal  States,  at  a  meeting  at  Altoona,  Penn., 
adopted  an  address  to  the  President  that  must  have  set 
at  rest  any  doubts  the  chief  magistrate  may  have  had 
that  his  policy  was  the  policy  of  the  loyal  people  of  the 
North.  The  document  was  inspired  and  executed  by 
patriots  in  whom  the  citizens  of  the  loyal  States  reposed 
unbounded  confidence.     They  declared: 

"  We  hail  with  heartfelt  gratitude  and  encouraged 
hope  the  proclamation  of  the   President,  issued  on  the 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

22d  inst.,  declaring  emancipated  from  their  bondage 
all  persons  held  to  service  or  labor  as  slaves  in  rebel 
States  where  rebellion  shall  last  until  the  first  day  of 
January  ensuing. 

"  Cordially  tendering  to  the  President  our  respectful 
assurances  of  personal  and  official  confidence,  we  trust 
and  believe  that  the  policy  now  inaugurated  will  be 
crowned  with  success,  will  give  speedy  and  triumphant 
victories  over  our  enemies,  and  secure  to  this  nation  and 
this  people  the  blessing  and  favor  of  Almighty  God. 
We  believe  that  the  blood  of  the  heroes  who  have 
already  fallen  and  those  who  may  yet  give  up  their  lives 
to  their  country  will  not  have  been  shed  in  vain. 

"  And  now  presenting  to  our  chief  magistrate  this 
conclusion  of  our  deliberations,  we  devote  ourselves  to 
our  country's  service,  and  we  will  surround  the  President 
in  our  constant  support,  trusting  that  the  fidelity  and 
zeal  of  the  loyal  States  and  people  will  always  assure 
him  that  he  will  be  constantly  maintained  in  pursuing 
with  vigor  this  war  for  the  preservation  of  the  national 
life  and  hopes  of  humanity." 


CHAPTER    IV. 

Arrival  at  Warrenton  —  Locating  a  Camp —  Dog  Tents —  Build- 
ing Winter  Quarters  —  On  Picket  —  A  Stand-off  with  the 
Rebels  —  A  Fatal  Post — Alarm  at  Midnight  —  Bugle  Calls 
—  The  Soldier's  Sabbath — 'The  Articles  of  War  and  the 
Death  Penalty. 


'  T  rained  the  day  the  third  battalion  of  the 

First    Massachusetts   cavalry  arrived    at 

||l     Warrenton,  Va.,  and   it  rained  for  three 

days,  almost  without   a  let-up,  after  we 

reached  our  destination. 

Recruits  always  received  a  hearty 
welcome  at  the  front  —  the  less  the  old 
soldiers  had  to  do  in  the  way  of  picket  duty,  the  better 
they  liked  it.  The  recruits  were  — at  first  —  ready  to 
do  all  the  duty,  and  the  veterans  were  willing  to  let  the 
new  arrivals  have  their  own  way  along  this  line.  But 
after  a  few  weeks  of  wear  and  tear  at  the  front,  the  raw 
recruits  could  generally  give  the  old  soldiers  points  on 
dodging    duty    and    feigning    sickness,    so    as    to    have 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  excused  from  picket,"  or  "  light  duty  "  marked  opposite 
their  names  on  the  sick  book.  These  peculiarities  of 
soldier-life  were  characteristic  of  camp  and  winter  quar- 
ters. As  a  rule,  when  the  troops  were  brought  face  to 
face  with  the  "business  of  the  campaign,"  there  was  a 
sort  of  freemasonry  among  them.  Then  the  veteran 
was  ready  .to  share  his  last  cracker  with  the  recruit,  and 
they  drank  from  the  same  canteen.  An  engagement 
with  the  enemy  was  sure  to  place  all  who  stood  shoulder 
to  shoulder  on  a  level.  In  the  jaws  of  death,  with  com- 
rades dropping  on  every  hand,  all  were  "  boys,"  and  all 
were  soldiers  —  comrades. 

Our  first  night's  experience  at  Warrenton  was  not 
calculated  to  inspire  us  with  love  for  the  place.  When 
we  arrived  we  were  drawn  up  in  line  in  front  of 
headquarters. 

"  You  will  camp  your  men  just  south  of  that  row  of 
tents,"  a  brigade  staff  officer  said  to  the  major  in  com- 
mand of  our  battalion.  "  You  can  pitch  tents  till  such 
time  as  you  can  build  winter  quarters.  Stretch  your 
picket  lines  so  as  to  leave  proper  intervals  between  your 
camp  and  the  regiment  next  to  it." 

The  staff  officer  hurried  back  into  his  log-house,  to 
get  out  of  the  rain.  We  broke  into  columns  of  fours, 
and  were  marched  to  the  ground  on  which  we  were  to 
build  our  winter  quarters.  The  outlook  was  discourag- 
ing.    The  camp  was  laid  out  on  a  side  hill,  down  which 


nowx    IN    DIXIE. 

good-sized  brooks  of  water  were  flowing.  And  the 
ground!  It  was  like  a  bed  of  mortar.  Next  to  pre- 
pared glue,  Virginia  mud  is  entitled  to  first  prize  for  its 
adhesive  qualities. 

"See  here,"  exclaimed  Taylor,  "they're  only  just 
making  fools  of  us.  No  general  could  order  us  to  get 
off  our  horses  and  make  camp  in  this  mud-hole." 

Taylor's  indiscretion  was  always  getting  him  into 
trouble,  and  his  talking  in  ranks  this  time  secured  him 
another  tour  of  double  duty. 

Down  came  the  rain,  and  we  were  in  for  it.  In  due 
time  the  horses  were  picketed  and  their  nosebags  put 
on.  As  soon  as  the  animals  were  taken  care  of  and  fed, 
the  weary  troopers,  drenched  to  the  skin,  were  directed 
to  "pitch  tents!"  The  tents  with  which  we  were  pro- 
vided were  known  as  shelter,  or  dog  tents,  the  latter 
name  being  most  popular,  as  they  often  failed  to  afford 
anything  but  a  poor  apology  for  shelter.  Each  soldier 
had  half  a  tent  —  till  he  lost  it.  The  half-tent  was  a 
piece  of  canvas  about  five  feet  by  four,  or  something- 
like  it.  Along  one  edge  was  a  row  of  buttonholes,  and 
a  little  further  back  a  row  of  buttons.  Two  pieces  but- 
toned together  were  put  over  a  ridge-pole,  supported  by 
two  crotches,  and  the  bottom  edges  of  the  tent  were 
fastened  to  the  ground  by  little  cord  loops  through 
which  sticks  were  driven.  Both  gable  ends  of  the  tent 
were    open    to    the    weather,    but     sometimes    a     third 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  bunkey  "  would  be  taken  in,  and  one  end  of  the  tent 
closed  up  with  his  piece.  The  shelter  tents  were  always 
too  short  at  both  ends.  Think  of  a  man  like  Corporal 
Goddard  of  our  company,  who  was  an  inch  or  two  over 
six  feet,  trying  to  "  shelter  "  himself  under  such  a  con- 
trivance. A  man  of  medium  height  could  find  cover 
only  by  doubling  himself  up  in  the  shape  of  a  capital  N, 
and  it  was  necessary  to  "  spoon  it  "  where  two  or  three 
attempted  to  sleep  under  one  dog  tent. 

Waterman  and  I  continued  as  bunkies.  At  Camp 
Stoneman,  Taylor  and  Horn  had  occupied  the  upper 
bunk  in  our  log-house,  and  the  same  quartette  had  de- 
cided to  go  together  when  we  should  build  winter  quar- 
ters at  our  new  location.  Horn  was  detailed  for  stable 
guard  as  soon  as  we  dismounted,  and  Taylor,  Waterman 
and  myself  concluded  to  pitch  tents  together. 

The  ground  was  so  soft  that  the  sticks  would  not 
hold,  and  the  tent  was  blown  down  several  times.  All 
our  blankets  were  wet.  Long  after  dark,  however,  we 
made  fast  the  tent  as  best  we  could,  and  crawled  in. 
Taylor  being  the  oldest  and  largest,  was  assigned  by  a 
majority  vote  of  Waterman  and  myself,  to  the  side  from 
which  the  wind  came.  I  took  the  middle.  It  was  close 
quarters. 

"  I  don't  see  what's  the  use  of  getting  up  to  fix  it 
again,"  said  Taylor,  as  the  dog  tent  was  blown  down 
the   third  time  after  we  had  turned  in.     "  I'm  just  as 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

wet's    I    can    be,    and    I'd    rather    sleep    than    get    up 
again." 

I  had  managed  to  raise  myself  a  few  inches  above 
the  water.  My  saddle  was  under  my  head,  and  I  had 
two  canteens  under  my  back.  The  water  was  running 
a  stream  between  Waterman  and  Taylor. 

"  I'll  sit  up  and  hold  the  tent  while  you  fellows 
sleep,"  volunteered  the  genial  Taylor  the  next  time  the 
tent  went  down. 

There  was  nothing  selfish  about  Taylor.  After  we 
had  gone  to  sleep  he  "  hadn't  the  heart  to  disturb  us," 
as  he  expressed  it  the  next  day,  and  when  the  wind 
shifted  and  there  was  a  slight  let-up  in  the  deluge,  he 
took  the  three  pieces  of  tent,  our  rubber  ponchos,  saddle 
blankets  and  bed  blankets  and,  selecting  the  dryest  spot 
he  could  find  on  the  side-hill,  he  rolled  himself  up  in 
them  and  slept  till  reveille.  Just  before  daybreak 
Waterman  and  I  were  drowned  out,  and  sought  shelter 
in  an  old  brick  building  up  on  the  hill. 

The  erection  of  log  huts  for  winter  quarters  at  War- 
ren ton  was  no  "joke."  We  had  to  go  on  Water  Mount- 
ain to  cut  the  trees  for  building  material.  Then  we 
waited  our  turn  for  teams  and  wagons  to  haul  the 
logs. 

It  was  thirteen  days  before  we  got  our  log-house  built 
and  our  shelter  tents  nailed  on  for  a  roof.  Two  bunks, 
one  over  the  other,  were  made  of  poles.     Taylor  and 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

Horn  had  the  upper  bunk,  while  Waterman  and  I  slept 
"  downstairs." 

"  There's  more  of  Giles  than  there  is  of  us,"  sug- 
gested Waterman,  "  and  we'll  put  him  and  Horn  in  the 
top  bunk  so  that  when  it  rains  and  the  roof  leaks  they'll 
absorb  a  good  deal  of  the  water  before  it  gets  to  us." 

Waterman  and  I  chuckled  over  our  success  in  secur- 
ing the  lower  bunk,  but  one  night  when  the  upper 
bunk  broke,  and  Taylor  and  Horn  came  tumbling  clown 
upon  us,  we  realized,  indeed,  that  there  was  a  good  deal 
more  of  Giles  than  there  was  of  us. 

We  went  on  picket  in  our  turn.  The  line  ran  along 
the  top  of  Water  Mountain  for  some  distance,  and  we 
occasionally  exchanged  compliments  with  Mosby's  men. 
The  first  night  we  were  on  picket,  a  little  down  to  the 
south  of  the  mountain,  I  went  on  duty  at  nine  o'clock. 
The  post  was  across  a  creek  and  near  an  old  stone  mill. 
It  rained,  sleeted  and  snowed  during  the  night,  and  the 
creek  filled  up  so  that  the  "  relief "  could  not  cross  over 
to  my  post  when  the  time  came  to  change  the  pickets. 
As  a  result  I  remained  on  post  till  daylight.  It  was 
one  of  the  longest  nights  I  ever  put  in  during  my  army 
service. 

Of  course,  every  noise  made  by  the  wind  was  a 
bushwhacker.  I  was  so  thankful  to  find  myself  alive 
at  davbreak  that  I  forgot  to  growl  at  the  corporal  for 
not  relieving  me  on  time.     When    I   unbosomed   myself 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

to  Taylor,  and  told  him  how  nervous  I  felt  out  there  by 
the  old  mill,  he  laughed  and  said  : 

"  Don't  you  never  feel  nervous  again  when  you're 
caught  in  such  a  scrape,  for,  mark  my  word,  no  rebel, 
not  even  a  'gorilla'  would  be  fool  enough  to  go  gunning 
for  Yankee  recruits  such  a  night  as  last  night  was."  I 
found  a  good  deal  of  comfort  in  Taylor's  logical  admoni- 
tion after  that  when  alone  on   picket  in  stormy  weather. 

Just  over  the  divide  on  Water  Mountain,  on  the 
side  toward  the  rebel  camp,  was  an  old  log  shanty. 
We  called  it  the  block  house.  Our  pickets  occupied 
it  by  day,  and  the  rebels  had  possession  of  it  by  night. 
This  happened  because  the  Union  picket  line  was 
drawn  in  at  night,  and  the  pickets  were  posted  closer 
together  than  during  the  day.  Our  line  was  advanced 
soon  after  daylight. 

One  morning  when  we  galloped  down  to  the  block 
house  from  our  reserve,  we  surprised  the  Johnnies. 
They  had  been  a  little  late  in  getting  breakfast,  and 
their  horses  had  their  nosebags  on.  We  were  just  as 
much  surprised  as  they  were,  and  we  stood  six  to  six. 
Carbines  and  revolvers  were  pointed,  but   no  one   fired. 

"  Give  us  time  to  put  on  our  bridles  and  we'll 
vacate,"  said  the  sergeant  of  the  rebel  picket. 

"  All  right;  go  ahead,"  our  sergeant  replied. 

The  Johnnies  bridled  their  horses,  mounted  and  rode 
down  the  mountain. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  We  kept  a  good  fire  for  you  all,"  the  rebel  sergeant 
remarked  as  they  left. 

"  And  you'll  find  it  burning  when  you  come  back  to- 
night," was  the  Yankee  sergeant's  assuring  reply. 

After  the  rebels  had  got  out  of  sight  our  boys 
began  to  feel  that  they  had  missed  a  golden  opportu- 
nity to  destroy  a  detachment  of  the  Confederate  army. 
We  had  longed  for  a  "  face-to-face  "  meeting  with  the 
rebels. 

"  I  could  have  killed  two  rebels  had  I  been  allowed 
to  shoot,"  said  Taylor. 

"Who  told  you  not  to  shoot?"  demanded  the 
sergeant. 

"  Well,  nobody  gave  the  order  to  fire.  I  had  my 
crun  cocked  and  if  the  rest  of  you  had  killed  your  man 
I'd  killed  mine." 

"  Bu-bu-bu-but  they  had  si-si-six  t-t-to  ou-ou-our 
si-si-six,  di-di-didn't  they?"  interrupted  Jack  Hazelet, 
whose  stammering  always  caused  him  to  grow  red  in 
the  face  when  he  wanted  to  get  a  word  in  in  time  and 
couldn't. 

"  Yes  ;  we  stood  six  to  six,  but  if  each  one  of  us  had 
killed  his  man  they  would  all  be  dead." 

"  Je-je-jesso;  bu-bu-bu-but  di-di-didn't  they  ha-ha-have 
gu-gu-guns,  t-t-too  ? " 

"  Of  course  they  did." 

"  Sup-po-po-posen  they  ha-ha-had  ki-ki-killed  's  ma- 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 


ma-many  'f  us  a-a-as  we  di-di-did  o-o-o-of  th-th-them, 
wh-wh-where  wo-wo-would  we-we-we  b-b-be  n-n-now? 
co-co-confound  you !  " 

As  we  found  that  only  two  of  our  party  had  their 
carbines  loaded  when  we  surprised  the  rebels,  we  con- 
cluded that  it  was  just  as  fortunate  for  us  as  it  was  for 
the  enemy  that  the  meeting  had  resulted  in  a  stand-off, 
although  Taylor  insisted  that  if  any  one  had  given  the 
command  "  fire  "  he  would  have  killed  his  man.  When 
his  attention  was  called  to  the  fact  that  his  carbine 
was  not  loaded,  he  said: 

"  Well,  I  could  have  speared  one  of  them  with  my 
sword  before  they  could  all  get  away." 

"  Bu-bu-bu-but  wh-wh-what  wo-wo-would  th-th-the 
re-re-reb  be-be-been  do-do-doing  ;  yo-yo-you  in-in-infernal 
blockhead  !  "  exclaimed  Hazelet,  and  Taylor  subsided. 

There  was  one  picket  post  half-way  down  Water 
Mountain,  toward  the  Federal  camp,  that  was  dreaded 
by  all  the  boys.  It  was  within  three  hundred  yards  of 
the  picket  reserve  or  rendezvous.  There  was  an  old 
wagon  road  winding  through  a  narrow  ravine,  and  a 
stone  wall  crossed  at  right  angles  with  the  road  opposite 
the  reserve.  On  either  side  of  the  ravine  was  thick 
underbrush,  and  just  back  a  little  were  woods.  We 
were  informed  that  four  pickets  had  been  shot  off  their 
horses  near  the  old  tree.  The  bushwhackers  would  ride 
to  within   a  few  hundred   yards  of  the  stone  wall,  dis- 


DOWN    IX    DIXIE. 

mount  and  while  one  would  remain  with  the  horses  an- 
other would  crawl  like  a  snake  in  the  grass  up  behind 
the  wall  and  pick  off  the  Union  cavalrymen.  It  was 
cold-blooded  murder,  committed  at  night,  without  cause 
or  provocation.  Let  it  be  said  to  the  credit  of  the  Con- 
federate rank  and  file,  that  the  boys  in  butternut  — 
the  regularly  organized  troops — discountenanced  the 
cowardly  acts  of  the  guerrillas  and  bushwhackers. 

A  soldier  was  shot  on  picket  at  the  old  tree  one 
night,  and  our  company  relieved  the  company  to  which 
he  belonged  the  next  morning.  The  murdered  trooper 
was  strapped  across  his  saddle  and  taken  to  camp  for 
burial.  When  our  boys  were  counted  off  for  picket 
Taylor  "  drew  the  fatal  number,"  as  it  was  called. 

"  If  I'm  murdered  on  post,  boys,"  he  said,  "  don't 
bother  about  taking  my  carcass  to  camp.  Bury  me 
where  I  fall." 

Taylor  made  a  poor  attempt  to  appear  unconcerned. 
But  he  was  a  droll  sort  of  a  boy.     He  continued  : 

"  I've  no  doubt  I  was  cut  out  for  an  avenger;  so  if 
any  of  you  fellows  want  me  to  avenge  your  death  just 
swap  posts  with  me  to-night.  If  any  infernal  gorilla 
steals  up  on  you  and  takes  your  life,  I  pledge  you  that 
I'll  follow  him  to  Texas,  but  what  I'll  spill  his  gore." 

"  I'd  rather  go  unavenged  than  to  take  chances  on 
that  post  from  eleven  o'clock  to  one  o'clock  to-night," 
chorused  several  of  Taylor's  friends. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

I  had  the  post  next  to  Taylor  toward  the  reserve. 
The  rain  was  falling,  and  it  was  dark  down  in  the 
ravine.  I  could  hear  Taylor's  horse  champing  his  bit, 
and  once  my  horse  broke  out  with  a  gentle  whinny,  the 
noise  of  which  startled  me  tremendously  at  first. 
And  I  have  no  doubt  it  operated  the  same  on  Taylor. 
Soon  after  that  the  rain  let  up  and  the  clouds  broke 
away  so  that  the  moon  could  be  seen  now  and  then. 
All  at  once  there  was  a  flash  and  a  loud  report. 

"  That's  the  last  of  poor  Giles,"  I  exclaimed,  as  the 
sound  of  the  shot  reverberated  through  the  ravine. 

Then  I  rode  toward  Taylor's  post  as  cautiously  as  I 
could.  I  was  pleasantly  startled  by  the  challenge  in  his 
well-known  voice : 

"  Who  comes  there  ?  " 

The  reserve  came  galloping  down  the  hill.  After 
the  usual  challenges  and  answers  had  been  given,  the 
lieutenant  inquired: 

"  Who  fired  that  shot  ?  " 

"  'Twas  me,"  replied  Taylor. 

"  What  did  you  fire  at  ?  " 

"  A  bushwhacker." 

"  Where  ?  " 

"  Over  by  the  wall." 

"  Did  you  see  him  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  did  ;  you  don't  suppose  I'd  fire  at  the 
moon,  do  you  ?  " 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

The  reserve  rode  forward  to  the  wall  and  a  few 
hundred  yards  beyond.  It  was  decided  that  it  would  be 
useless  to  follow  the  guerrillas  in  the  darkness.  The 
pickets  were  doubled,  two  men  on  a  post,  for  the  rest  of 
the  night.  I  was  put  on  the  same  post  with  Taylor, 
and  after  the  reserve  had  returned  to  the  rendezvous  I 
questioned  him  about  the  alarm  : 

"  Are  you  sure  you  saw  a  live  bushwhacker,  Giles  ?  " 

"  If  I  hadn't  seen  him  I'd  be  dead  now." 

"  You  didn't  challenge  him  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  should  say  not.  I  saw  him  raise  his  head 
over  the  wall,  just  as  the  moon  broke  through  a  cloud. 
I  first  saw  the  glisten  of  his  gun.  Then  I  fired,  and  I 
believe  I  singed  his  hair,  for  I  took  good  aim.  If  the 
moon  had  staid  behind  the  clouds  three  seconds 
longer,  the  gorilla  would  'a'  had  me  sure.  After  I  fired 
I  heard  him  run,  and  then  there  were  voices,  followed 
by  the  noise  of  horses'  hoofs  as  the  bushwhackers 
galloped  away.  It  was  a  close  call  for  Taylor,  but  I 
tell  vou  I  sat  with  my  carbine  cocked  and  pointed  at 
that  wall  all  the  time  till  the  gorilla  appeared.  If  my 
horse  hadn't  shied  a  little,  that  fellow  would  never  have 
gone  back  to  tell  the  story  of  his  failure  to  murder 
another  picket." 

The  next  day  arrangements  were  made  to  surprise 
the  guerrillas  in  the  event  of  another  visit.  Two  dis- 
mounted troopers  were  stationed  behind  the  stone  wall, 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 


within  easy  range  of  the  opening  down  the  road  toward 
the  rebel  lines.  But  the  bushwhackers  did  not  return 
during  our  tour  of  picket. 

It  was  never  clearly  explained  why  the  post  at  the 
old  tree  had  been  used,  when  the  picket  could  be  so 
much  more  safely  stationed  up  behind  the  wall.  There 
were  a  good  many  things  that  seemed  strange  to  pri- 
vates, but  whenever  an  enlisted  man  made  an  effort  to 
suggest  that  the  plan  of  operations  of  his  superiors  be 
revised  or  corrected,  it  did  not  take  him  long  to  discover 
that  he  had  made  "  one  big  shackass  of  mineself,"  as  a 
recruit  from  Faderland  expressed  it  when  he  was  booted 
out  of  a  sergeant's  tent  at  Warrenton  for  simply  inform- 
ing the  wearer  of  chevrons  that  in  "  Shermany  the 
sergeants  somedimes  set  up  der  lager  mit  de  boys." 

The  experiences  of  the  First  Massachusetts  cavalry 
at  Warrenton  during  the  winter  were  similar  to  those 
of  other  regiments  in  camp  at  that  station.  Some  of  us 
would  have  been  fearfully  homesick  if  we  had  found  any 
spare  time  between  calls.  We  scarcely  had  opportunity 
to  answer  letters  from  home,  so  thick  and  fast  came  the 
bugle  blasts.  One  of  our  boys  received  a  letter  from 
his  sweetheart,  and  she  wondered  what  the  soldiers 
could  find  to  occupy  their  time — "no  balls,  no  parties, 
no  corn-huskings,"  as  she  expressed  it.  Her  soldier 
boy  inclosed  a  copy  of  the  list  of  calls  for  our  every-day 
existence  in  camp,  and  when  we  were  not  on  picket  duty. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

I  have  no  doubt  the  dear  girl  was  satisfied  that  her 
boy  in  blue  would  suffer  little,  if  any,  for  the  want  of 
something  to  keep  his  mind  occupied.  As  near  as  I 
can  remember,  the  list  of  calls  for  each  day's  programme 
—  except  Sunday,  when  we  had  general  inspection  and 
were  kept  in  line  an  hour  or  two  extra  —  was  as 
follows : 


Buglers'  call    . 
Assembly 
Reveille   . 
Stable  call 
Breakfast  call  . 
Sick  call  . 
Fatigue  call 
First  call  for  guard 
Adjutant's  call 
Water  call 
Drill  call 
Recall  from 
Orderly  call 
Dinner  call 
Drill  call . 
Recall  from  dii 
Water  call 
Stable  call 
Dress  parade  . 
Retreat   . 
Tattoo 
Taps 


rill 


Daybreak 

Five  minutes  later 

Immediately  after 

Immediately  after 

(about)  7  a.  M. 

7.30  A.  M. 

.     8  A.  M. 

S.  50  A.  M. 

9  A.   M. 

9. 15  A.   M. 

9.30  A.  M. 


2  P.  M. 
2.30  P.  H. 
3.30  P.    M. 

tefore  sunset. 
.  Sunset. 
S.30  P.  M. 
.    9  p.  M. 


The  roll  was  called  at  reveille,  drill,  retreat  and 
tattoo.  The  boys  had  "  words  set  to  music  "  for  nearly 
all  the  calls.  The  breakfast  call  was  rather  inelegantly 
expressed  when  infantry  and  cavalry  troops  were  camped 
close  together.     The  foot  soldiers,  not  having  horses  to 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 


groom  and  feed,  had  their  breakfast  the  first  thing  after 
reveille.  Then  they  would  stand  around,  and  as  the 
cavalry  bugler-boys  would  sound  the  breakfast  call  after 
stables,  the  heroes  of  the  knapsack  would  chorus : 


"  Go  and  get  your  breakfast, 
Breakfast  without  meat." 


But  a  cavalry  poet  tried  his  hand,  and  after  that 
whenever  the  infantry  fellows  shouted  the  above  at  us 
to  the  tune  of  breakfast  call,  we  all  joined  in  the 
refrain  : 

"  Dirty,  dirty  doughboy, 
Dirty,  dirty  feet." 

That  settled  it.  The  doughboys  soon  fell  back.  If 
they  had  not,  there  might  have  been  a  riot,  for  our  poet 
was  at  work  on  another  verse  that  he  said  would  settle 
their  hash.  Judging  from  the  result  of  his  first  effort, 
I  can  readily  see  that  the  infantry  had  a  narrow  escape. 

We  had  inspection  every  Sunday  morning  after 
stables.  Each  company  was  looked  over  by  its  first 
sergeant.  Then  the  captains  would  appear  and  take 
charge.  If  it  were  to  be  a  regimental  inspection,  all 
the  companies  would  be  marched  to  the  parade-ground, 
and  the  colonel  or  regimental  commander  would  be  the 
inspecting  officer.  Every  now  and  then  a  brigade 
review  would  follow  the  inspection.      It  was  fun  for  the 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

brigadier,  or  inspector,  but  after  the  rear  rank  privates 
had  been  in  the  saddle  two  hours  or  more,  sitting  bolt 
upright,  with  eyes  fixed  square  to  the  front  while  wait- 
ing to  have  the  inspector  come  round  to  them,  and  go 
through  the  motions  of  examining  their  carbines,  re- 
volvers, sabers  and  equipments,  the  affair  became  tedious. 

But  our  regiment  was  blessed  with  an  excellent 
band.  The  members  rode  white  horses,  and  on  all 
grand  reviews  and  parades  they  took  position  on  the 
right  of  the  regiment.  Whenever  the  inspection  was 
particularly  protracted  and  severe,  the  band  would  play 
inspiring  selections,  and  many  a  poor  fellow  who  was 
on  the  point  of  asking  permission  to  fall  out  of  the 
ranks,  would  cheer  up  as  the  strains  of  "  The  Girl  I 
Left  Behind  Me,"  or  some  other  popular  air,  would 
reach  his  ear.  Survivors  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac 
—  and  all  other  armies  —  will  recall  that  the  playing  of 
a  single  tune  as  the  comrades  rushed  forward  into 
the  heat  of  battle,  was  worth  more  than  the  spread- 
eagle  speeches  of  scores  of  generals.  The  soldier  that 
could  muster  backbone  enough  to  turn  tail  and  run 
when  his  comrades  were  presenting  a  solid  front  to  the 
enemy,  and  the  bands  were  playing  national  airs,  was 
made  of  queer  material,  indeed. 

On  one  of  these  Sunday  morning  inspections,  Taylor 
remarked  to  me  in  a  low  tone  of  voice : 

"  I'd   like  to  know  how  they  expect  us  to  diligently 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 


attend  divine  worship  when  they  keep  us  harnessed  up 
all  day  after  this  fashion  ?  " 

"  Keep  still,  Giles  ;  if  the  sergeant  hears  you  he'll 
tie  you  up  by  the  thumbs." 

Yet  Taylor's  inquiry  was  to  the  point.  The  articles 
of  war  had  been  read  to  us  only  the  day  before  that  in- 
spection. Here  is  what  we  were  given  along  the  line 
referred  to  by  Taylor  : 

"Article  2. —  It  is  earnestly  recommended  to  all 
officers  and  soldiers,  diligently  to  attend  divine  service ; 
and  all  officers  who  shall  behave  indecently  or  irrever- 
ently at  any  place  of  divine  worship,  shall,  if  com- 
missioned officers,  be  brought  before  a  general  court- 
martial,  there  to  be  publicly  and  severely  reprimanded 
by  the  President  ;  if  non-commissioned  officers  or 
soldiers,  every  person  so  offending  shall,  for  his  first 
offense,  forfeit  one  sixth  of  a  dollar,  to  be  deducted  out 
of  his  next  pay;  for  the  second  offense  he  shall  not 
only  forfeit  a  like  sum,  but  be  confined  twenty-four 
hours ;  and  for  every  like  offense,  shall  suffer  and  pay 
in  like  manner;  which  money,  so  forfeited,  shall  be 
applied  by  the  captain  or  senior  officer  of  the  troop  or 
company,  to  the  use  of  the  sick  soldiers  of  the  company 
or  troop  to  which  the  offender  belongs." 

The  boys  called  the  regulations  the  army  Bible.  Of 
course,  many  of  the  articles  were  intended  for  troops  in 
garrison. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 


When  in  active  service,  on  the  march  and  on  the 
tattle  field,  divine  services  were  impracticable  until 
there  was  at  least  a  temporary  cessation  of  hostilities. 
Regimental  chaplains  exhibited  remarkable  fortitude, 
courage  and  self-sacrifice  in  administering  spiritual 
consolation  to  the  wounded  and  dying  at  the  front,  even 
under  heavy  fire  from  the  enemy.  There  were  services 
in  camp  in  such  organizations  as  had  ministers  of  the 
gospel  with  them,  but  many  regiments  were  without 
chaplains,  and  had  to  forage  for  religious  food,  if  they 
had  any. 

I  do  not  remember  attending  divine  service  in  the 
army,  except  once  in  the  Wilderness  campaign.  It  was 
at  night,  and  the  congregation  stood  around  a  blazing 
camp-fire.  The  good  old  chaplain  exhorted  the  boys  to 
prepare  the  way,  and  buckle  on  the  whole  armor.  It 
was  a  striking  scene.  Some  of  the  boys  wept  as  the 
minister  alluded  to  the  loved  ones  at  home,  who  were 
looking  to  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  for  a  victory  that 
would  crush  out  the  rebellion.  There  were  few  dry 
eyes  when  the  benediction  was  pronounced,  after  the 
chaplain  had  urged  his  hearers  to  "be  prepared  to  stand 
an   inspection   before  the   King  of  kings." 

It  was  the  last  religious  service  that  many  who 
were  present  that  night  ever  attended.  The  next  day 
rebel  bullets  mowed  them  down  by  scores.  They  died 
in  defense  of  the  right  —  that  the  Union  might  be  pre- 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

served.      Of    those  who   fell    as    they  fell    a    poet    has 
written  : 

"  No  more  the  bugle  calls  the  weary  one, 
Rest,  noble  spirit,  in  your  grave  unknown  ; 
We  will  find  you  and  know  you, 
Among  the  good  and  true, 
When  the  robe  of  white  is  given 
For  the  faded  coat  of  blue." 

I  may  have  had  many  opportunities  to  hear  the  Gos- 
pel preached  during  the  war,  but  I  do  not  recall  the 
circumstances  now.  Yet  I  am  sure  that  if  I  had  dili- 
gently reconnoitered  the  camps,  I  could  have  found 
faithful  disciples  preaching  the  Word  of  Life  to  such  as 
had  ears  to  hear.  And  I  believe  that  when  the  general 
roll  shall  be  called  on  the  shores  of  eternity,  the  noble 
Christian  soldiers  who  held  aloft  the  banner  of  their 
Master  on  the  battle  fields  of  the  great  Civil  War,  will 
not  only  hear  the  welcome,  "  Well  done,"  but  they  will 
be  crowned  with  diadems  bedecked  with  many  stars. 

The  third  commandment  laid  down  in  the  regula- 
tions was  probably  violated  more  frequently  than  any  of 
the  one  hundred  and  one  articles  of  war.      It  read  : 

"  Article  3. —  Any  non-commissioned  officer  or  sol- 
dier who  shall  use  any  profane  oath  or  execration,  shall 
incur  the  penalties  expressed  in  the  foregoing  article  ;  and 
a  commissioned  officer  shall  forfeit  and  pay,  for  each  and 
every  such  offense,  one  dollar,  to  be  applied  as  in  the 
preceding  article." 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

Had  this  article  been  lived  up  to,  the  "  sick  soldiers  " 
referred  to  would  have  been  provided  for  for  life,  as  would 
their  children  and  children's  children.  There  would 
have  been  no  call  for  the  sanitary  and  Christian  com- 
missions to  raise  money  to  alleviate  the  sufferings  of 
the  sick.  All  that  money  could  have  supplied  would 
have  been  provided.  I  do  not  mean  to  convey  the  idea 
that  the  Union  soldiers  were  particularly  profane,  but 
something  like  a  half-million  of  men  were  under  arms  at 
one  time,  about  the  close  of  the  war.  Some  of  them 
swore.  Even  generals  blasphemed  before  their  men. 
The  general-in-chief,  however,  was  an  exception.  No 
soldier  in  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  ever  heard  Gen. 
Grant  utter  an  oath.  There  were  officers  and  soldiers 
in  all  regiments  who  did  not  swear.  But  they  were  in 
the  minority.  Had  the  penalty  for  using  profane  oaths 
been  enforced,  seventy-five  per  cent,  of  the  soldiers  would 
have  been  in  the  guard  house  all  the  time,  and  at  the 
end  of  a  week  they  would  have  been  indebted  to  the 
Government  more  than  their  three  years'  salary  would 
have  footed  up,  and  the  guard  house  would  have  had  a 
mortgage  on  them  for  years  to  come. 

The  third  article  of  war  was  read  to  one  companv  in 
our  regiment  by  a  first  sergeant,  who  gave  such  an  em- 
phasis to  the  reading  of  the  penalty  for  swearing  that 
the  boys  began  to  feeT  that  they  must  "  swear  off  "  on 
profanity.     Said   the  sergeant  : 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 


"  I  want  you  men  to  understand  that  in  this  company 
the  articles  of  war  will  be  strictly  lived  up  to.  If  I  hear 
any  man  use  profane  language,  be  he  non-commissioned 
officer  or  soldier,  I'll  bring  him  up  for  punishment  as 
prescribed." 

Then  the  sergeant  swore  a  "  blue  streak  "  for  a 
minute  or  two  before  he  gave  the  order  to  "break 
ranks."  Yet  he  did  it  unconsciously,  as  he  said  when 
his  attention  was  called  to  it  by  a  corporal,  and  only 
intended  to  emphasize  the  interdiction. 

Quite  a  number  of  the  articles  of  war  enumerated 
offenses  for  which  the  penalty  provided  that  the  offender 
"  shall  suffer  death,  or  such  other  punishment  as  by  a 
court-martial  shall  be  inflicted."  In  the  reading  the 
officers  always  emphasized  the  penalty  "  shall  suffer 
death,"  and  then  dropped  their  voices  till  the  "  or  such 
other  punishment"  could  scarcely  be  heard  by  the 
soldiers  standing  the  nearest  to  the  reader.  The  death 
penalty  was  sandwiched  all  through  the  articles  of  war, 
and  at  the  close  of  the  reading  the  average  recruit  felt 
condemned,  and  could  remember  nothing  but  "shall 
suffer  death,"  and  expected  to  hear  the  captain  order 
out  a  detail  to  execute  the  sentence.  But  the  death 
penalty  was  inflicted,  except  in  rare  instances,  only  upon 
spies  or  men  who  had  deserted  to  the  enemy  and  been 
recaptured. 


CHAPTER    V. 

General  Grant  as  Commander-in-chief  with  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  —  How  Grant  Fought  His  Men  —  Not  a  Retreating 
Man  —  The  Over/and  Campaign —  The  Grand  Finale  —  After 
the  War  —  The  Old  Commander  in  Troy —  En  Route  to  Mac- 
Grcgor  —  Mustered  Out. 


HEN  U.  S.  Grant  was  promoted  to  lieu- 
tenant-genera], and  assigned  to  com- 
mand all  the  armies  of  the  United 
States,  the  announcement  was  received 
by  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  without 
any  marked  evidence  of  approval  or 
disapproval.  There  was  no  enthusiasm  whatever  among 
the  troops  in  winter  quarters  around  Warrenton. 

A  few  expressed  the  opinion  that  the  "  Western  im- 
portation "  would  not  come  up  to  the  country's  expecta-, 
tions  when  brought  face  to  face  with  the  great  rebel 
chief,  who  was  personally  acquainted  with  every  inch  of 
the  ground  on  which  the  battles  of  Virginia  must  be 
fought.     Then  there   was    a    feeling,  though    not    out- 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

spoken  to  any  great  extent,  that  the  new-comer,  being  a 
stranger  to  Lee's  tactics,  and  unacquainted  with  the 
Eastern  troops,  would  be  placed  at  such  a  disadvantage, 
that  the  Confederate  leader  would  be  enabled  to  "  play 
all  around  "  Grant,  and  demoralize  the  Union  army. 
The  veterans  of  the  grand  old  Army  of  the  Potomac 
were  prepared  to  fight  —  to  the  death,  if  need  be —  no 
matter  who  received  the  three  stars  of  a  lieutenant- 
general.  They  were  loyal  to  their  flag,  and  that  carried 
with  it  loyalty  to  the  new  commander. 

Probably  it  did  not  occur  to  a  dozen  soldiers  in  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac  that  Grant  would  adopt  tactics  of 
his  own,  instead  of  following  in  the  beaten  paths  of 
former  commanders.  No  one  suspected  that  the  lieu- 
tenant-general would  be  able  to  knock  the  bottom  out 
of  the  Southern  Confederacy  inside  of  twelve  months 
after  his  first  order  for  the  advance  of  the  army  had 
been  promulgated.  We  all  believed  that  the  Union 
cause  would  triumph.  But  when?  Three  years  had 
rolled  round  since  the  rebels  fired  on  Sumter.  And 
"  Uncle  Robert,"  with  his  veterans  in  butternut,  still 
flaunted  the  stars  and  bars  as  defiantly  as  ever,  within  a 
few  miles  of  the  national  capital. 

Company  I,  First  Massachusetts  cavalry,  received 
the  news  at  first  in  the  same  spirit  that  other  companies 
in  our  locality  received  it.  The  new  commander's  quali- 
fications were  discussed  in   the  lioht  of  what  had   been 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

heard  of  his  career  in  the  West.  How  much  light  we 
had  received  may  be  inferred  from  a  discussion  around 
the  reserve  picket  fire  on  Water  Mountain,  a  detach- 
ment of  the  Sixth  Ohio  and  First  Pennsylvania  cavalry 
being  on  duty  with  our  regimental  detail : 

"  Who's  this  Grant  that's  made  lieutenant-general  ?  " 

"  He's  the  hero  of  Vicksburg." 

"  Well,  Vicksburg  wasn't  much  of  a  fight.  The 
rebs  were  out  of  rations,  and  they  had  to  surrender  or 
starve.  They  had  nothing  but  dead  mules  and  dogs  to 
eat,  as  I  understand  it." 

"Yes;  but  it  required  a  good  deal  of  strategy  to 
keep  Pemberton's  army  cooped  up  in  Vicksburg  till 
they  were  so  weak  for  want  of  grub  that  they  couldn't 
skedaddle  even  if  they  had  found  a  hole  to  crawl 
out  of." 

"  I  don't  believe  Grant  could  have  penned  any  of 
Lee's  generals  up  after  that  fashion.  Early,  or  Long- 
street,  or  Jeb  Stuart  would  have  broken  out  some  way 
and  foraged  around  for  supplies." 

"  Maybe  so." 

"  Pemberton  couldn't  hold  a  candle  to  Lee.'' 

"  Of  course  not." 

"  What  else  has  Grant  done  ?  " 

"  He  has  whipped  the  Johnnies  every  time  they  have 
faced  him,  all  the  way  from  Fort  Donelson  to  Chat- 
tanooga." 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  He's  a  fighter,  then  ?  " 

"  That's  what  they  call  him." 

"  Bully  for  Grant !  " 

"  Where  does  he  hall  from  ?  " 

"  Galena,  111.  He  was  clerking  in  a  leather  store 
when  the  war  broke  out." 

"  I  don't  care  if  he  was  in  Illinois  when  the  war  be- 
gan, he  was  born  in  Ohio,  graduated  at  West  Point,  and 
served  in  Mexico  and  out  WTest." 

"Hurrah  for  Ohio!"  (chorus  of  the  Sixth  Ohio 
cavalry).     "  Hurrah  for  Grant !  " 

"  Hurrah  !  "     "  Hurrah  !  "     "  Hurrah  !  " 

"  Tiger  !  " 

I  do  not  know  but  what  the  "  Ohio  idee  "  was  in- 
augurated on  our  picket  line  away  back  there  in  1864. 
At  any  rate  the  Sixth  Ohio  boys  insisted,  when  they 
were  assured  that  the  lieutenant-general  was  a  native 
of  that  State,  that  "  Bob  Lee's  goose  was  as  good  as 
cooked  already."  It  was  rather  a  crude  way  of  express- 
ing a  prophecy  that  proved  as  true  as  Holy  Writ.  The 
Ohio  Volunteers  were  ready  to  cross  sabers  with  the 
enemy  without  more  ado.  Grant  was  from  Ohio,  and 
that  settled  it. 

The  Bay  State  boys  indorsed  Grant  after  his  record 
had  been  established.  To  be  sure  there  was  our  own 
Gen.  Butler,  the  hero  of  New  Orleans.  Butler  was  then 
in  command  of  the  Army  of  the  James,   with  Fortress 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

Monroe  as  his  base  of  supplies.  Somehow  we  had 
come  to  associate  Butler  with  naval  expeditions,  and 
never  thought  of  him  in  connection  with  a  campaign  on 
land  beyond  the  support  of  the  gunboats.  It  is  prob- 
able that  our  estimates  of  military  men  were  influenced 
by  what  we  read  in  the  newspapers.  One  of  the  boys 
declared  that  in  a  description  of  the  capture  of  New 
Orleans  he  had  read,  mention  was  made  of  Butler  being 
"lashed  to  the  maintop,"  while  the  fleet  under  Farragut 
was  fighting  its  way  up  the  Mississippi  under  fire  from 
the  guns  of  Forts  Jackson  and  St.  Philip.  Said  an  Ohio 
trooper : 

"  I  don't  believe  that  story." 

"  Neither  do  I.     I'm  only  telling  you  what  I  read." 
"  I  think  Butler  had  better  stay  in  the  navy." 
"  But    he    isn't   a    sailor;    he's    a    major-general    of 
volunteers." 

"  Well,  there's  no  telling  how  he  might  cut  up  on 
dry  land.  He'd  better  keep  his  sea  legs  on  and  stay 
where  if  he  gets  whipped  he  can't  run." 

The  veterans  from  the  Keystone  State  had  not  lost 
faith  in  "  Little  Mac."  They  contended  that  McClellan 
had  been  handicapped  just  at  a  moment  when  he  was 
"  about  to  execute  a  coup  de  main  that  would  prove  a 
coup  de  grace  to  the  Southern  Confederacy!"  Meade 
was  the  second  choice  of  the  Pennsylvanians.  His 
splendid  victory  over  Lee  at  Gettysburg  had  brought 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

him  into  the  front  rank.  He  had  won  the  gratitude  of 
the  whole  North,  Copperheads  excepted.  Checking 
Lee's  advance  Northward,  whipping  the  rebel  army  and 
compelling  the  defeated  Confederacy  to  "  about  face  " 
and  put  for  home,  gave  Gen.  Meade  a  big  place  in 
the  hearts  of  the  soldiers  and  the  loyal  people  of  the 
Keystone  State.  Surely  the  patriots  of  the  North  had 
good  cause  to  rejoice  on  the  eighty-seventh  anniversary 
of  the  signing  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  On 
that  day  Grant's  victorious  army  raised  the  stars  and 
stripes  over  the  rebel  fortifications  at  Vicksburg,  and 
the  Mississippi  was  opened  to  the  sea ;  and  Lee's  army 
of  Northern  Virginia  was  retreating  from  the  scene  of 
its  unsuccessful  attack  on  Meade's  army  at  Gettysburg. 
Within  forty-eight  hours  after  the  Union  troops  had 
crossed  the  Rapidan  under  the  direction  of  Gen.  Grant, 
there  was  not  a  soldier  in  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  but 
what  felt  that  the  lieutenant-general  meant  business. 
The  official  records  on  file  at  Washington  show  that 
during  that  two  days'  terrible  struggle  in  the  Wilder- 
ness—  May  5  and  6,  1S64  —  the  loss  sustained  by 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac  was  13,94s,  of  which  2,261 
were  killed,  8,785  wounded  and  2,902  taken  prisoners 
or  missing.  Then  came  Spottsylvania,  with  an  aggre- 
gate Union  loss  of  13,601.  The  total  loss  sustained  by 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  the  Army  of  the  James  and  by 
Sheridan's  operations  in   the  valley,  from   May  1,  1S64, 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

to  the  surrender  of  Lee  at  Appomattox,  April  9,  1865, 
is  given  in  official  compilations  at  99,772  —  14,601 
killed,  61,452  wounded  and  23,719  missing.  In  the 
meantime  the  Federal  forces  operating  in  Virginia 
captured  81,112  Confederates,  and  Lee's  killed  and 
wounded  are  believed  to  have  been  equal  to  Grant's, 
but  the  "  scattering  "  of  the  rebels  after  Richmond  fell, 
and  the  destruction  of  Confederate  records,  made  it  im- 
possible to  arrive  at  the  exact  figures. 

As  already  stated,  the  veterans  of  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  were  satisfied  that  Grant  was  a  fighting 
man.  During  the  period  beginning  with  the  opening 
skirmish  in  the  Wilderness,  and  continuing  down  to 
the  end  of  the  conflict  at  Appomattox,  there  was  not 
wanting  evidence  of  Grant's  determination  to  "  fight 
his  men  "  for  all  they  were  worth  whenever  oppor- 
tunity presented  for  hammering  the  rebels.  There 
was  no  going  back  this  time.  It  was  "  On  to  Rich- 
mond "  in  earnest.  The  Army  of  the  Potomac  was 
ready  to  be  led  against  the  enemy.  There  was  general 
rejoicing  all  along  the  line  when  the  command  was 
given,  "  By  the  left  flank,  forward  !  "  and  the  Federals 
moved  toward  Spottsylvania  instead  of  retreating  across 
the  Rapidan,  as  President  Lincoln  said  any  previous 
commander  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  would  have 
done  at  the  close  of  such  a  battle  as  that  fought  in  the 
Wilderness. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

In  Richardson's  "  Personal  History  of  U.  S.  Grant," 
it  is  stated  that  in  the  rebel  lines  it  was  believed  that 
our  army  was  falling  back  at  the  close  of  the  conflict  in 
the  Wilderness.     The  account  continues: 


Gordon  said  to  Lee  : 

"  I  think  there  is  no  doubt  but  that  Grant  is  retreating." 

"  You   are   mistaken,"  replied  the   Confederate  chief  earnestly,  "  quite  mis- 
taken.    Grant  is  not  retreating  ;  he  is  not  a  retreating  man." 


Lee  was  right.  The  Army  of  the  Potomac  was 
never  again  marched  back  across  the  Rapidan  until 
after  the  backbone  of  the  Confederacy  had  been  broken, 
and  the  gallant  Union  soldiers  were  en  route  to  Wash- 
ington to  be  mustered  out. 

I  first  saw  Gen.  Grant  while  the  battle  of  the 
Wilderness  was  going  on.  In  changing  position  during 
the  fight,  our  regiment  was  marched  around  by  Meade's 
headquarters.  There  were  a  dozen  or  more  officers 
grouped  about  Gen.  Grant  and  Gen.  Meade.  The 
latter  wore  the  full  uniform  of  a  major-general,  includ- 
ing sword  and  sash.  He  was  somewhat  fussy  in  giving 
directions,  and  a  stickler  for  red  tape.  But  Meade  was 
a  soldier  "  from  heels  up."  Grant  was  plainly  dressed, 
and  wore  no  sword.  His  coat  was  unbuttoned,  and  not 
until  he  was  pointed  out  as  the  commander-in-chief  was 
he  recognized  by  the  troopers  who  were  riding  across 
the  field. 

"  There's  Gen.  Grant." 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  Where  ?  " 

"  On  the  left  of  Gen.  Meade." 

"  That  officer  with  his  coat  open  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  that's  Grant." 

Off  went  our  caps,  and  the  commander  acknowledged 
our  cheer  by  raising  his  hat. 

Just  then  there  was  a  terrific  firing  along  Hancock's 
front,  and  Grant  galloped  over  in  that  direction  after  a 
moment's  conversation  with  Meade.  We  took  up  the 
trot,  and  in  a  few  minutes  found  plenty  to  do  out  on  the 
road  leading  to  Todd's  tavern.  \\  nen  a  breathing  spell 
came,  the  boys  had  their  say  about  the  lieutenant- 
general. 

"  I  expected  to  see  him  all  covered  with  gold  lace 
and  other  fixin's,"  said  one. 

"  He  looks  as  if  he  would  stay  with  'em  till  somebody 
cried  enough." 

"  He's  got  good  qualities,  any  way,"  remarked  Taylor. 

"  How  can  you  tell  ?  " 

"  Because  he  smokes  fine  cigars,  and  rides  a  good 
hoss.  I  got  a  smell  of  that  cigar  as  he  cantered  bv  to 
see  what  was  going  on  in  front  of  the  second  corps.  I 
think  "  — 

The  discussion  was  cut  short  by  another  attempt  of 
the  Johnnies  to  hustle  us  back  from  the  position  held 
by  our  brigade.  We  protested  so  vigorously  that  the 
rebels    retreated     after    making    three    or    four    dashes 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

against  our  advance  squadrons.  It  was  warm  work  in 
the  Wilderness.      One  of  our  boys  exclaimed  : 

"  If  any  of  us  get  out  of  this  Wilderness  alive,  our 
chances  will  be  good  to  see  the  end  of  the  Southern 
Confederacy." 

"  Yea,  verily,"  groaned  a  corporal  who  had  been 
shot  in  the  arm. 

That  Grant  had  no  suspicion  of  being  in  a  tight 
box,  as  the  rebel  sympathizers  at  the  North  declared  he 
was,  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  at  the  very  moment  when 
his  defamers  asserted  he  was  so  badly  crippled  that  had 
Lee  attacked  the  Union  army  Grant's  forces  would  have 
been  destroyed,  the  lieutenant-general  was  so  much  on 
the  aggressive  that  he  was  marching  to  renew  the  battle 
at  Spottsylvania,  and  felt  able  to  spare  Sheridan  and  his 
splendid  cavalry  corps  for  a  raid  on  Lee's  communi- 
cations. 

We  saw  Grant  again  when  we  rejoined  the  army ;  at 
Cold  Harbor,  on  the  march  to  the  south  side  of  the 
James  several  times,  and  during  the  assaults  in  front  of 
Petersburg.  While  in  winter  quarters  we  saw  the  lieu- 
tenant-general often  at  City  Point  and  along  the  line, 
and  the  more  we  saw  of  him  the  higher  he  rose  in  our 
estimation.  Then  came  the  campaign  of  1865,  ending 
with  the  surrender  of  the  rebel  army  at  Appomattox. 
Grant  was  a  modest  officer,  not  given  to  display,  but 
when  the  Army  of  the   Potomac  awoke  to  the  fact  that 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

Lee's  army  was  in  the  "  last  ditch,"  then,  and  not  till 
then,  did  the  soldiers  begin  to  appreciate  the  true  great- 
ness of  the  commander-in-chief. 

The  downfall  of  Richmond  and  the  capture  of  Lee's 
army  silenced  even  the  assistant  Confederates  at  the 
North.  It  was  a  grand  victory  —  a  magnificent  triumph 
of  superior  generalship  combined  with  a  patriotism  that 
had  never  wavered  in  the  face  of  armed  rebellion. 

After  the  surrender  I  next  saw  Grant  in  Washington 
on  the  grand  review  in  May,  1865.  He  was  on  the 
stand  in  front  of  the  White  House  with  a  large  crowd 
of  dignitaries,  including  President  Johnson. 

I  saw  the  old  commander  but  three  times  after  the 
war  closed.  The  first  time  was  on  the  occasion  of  his 
visit  to  Troy,  N.  Y.,  several  years  ago.  He  attended 
and  spoke  at  a  public  installation  of  Post  Willard,  Grand 
Army  of  the  Republic,  at  Music  Hall.  He  was  accom- 
panied to  the  city  by  Governor  Cornell,  and  a  grand 
parade  was  had  in  which  all  the  local  military  organi- 
zations and  veterans  participated.  The  general  and  the 
governor  occupied  a  carriage  with  Gen.  J.  B.  Carr 
and  Honorable  John  M.  Francis,  and  dined  with  Mr. 
Francis  at  his  residence.  I  was  glad  of  the  opportunity 
to  grasp  the  old  commander's  hand. 

I  had  the  pleasure,  as  a  representative  of  the  Troy 
Daily  Times,  to  accompany  the  Grant  family  from  Al- 
bany to  Saratoga  about  the  middle  of  June,   1SS5.     It 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

was,  indeed,  a  pleasure  to  meet  the  hero  of  Appomattox 
again,  but  the  heart  of  the  soldier  who  had  served  under 
Grant  from  the  Wilderness  to  Appomattox  and  had 
been  present  when  the  surrender  took  place,  was  sad- 
dened to  find  the  old  warrior  only  a  shadow  of  his 
former  self.  Only  once  on  the  trip  to  Mount  Mac- 
Gregor  did  the  general  display  any  of  that  martial  spirit 
that  twenty  years  before  had  animated  the  commander- 
in-chief  and  inspired  his  gallant  army.  It  was  at  Sara- 
toga Springs  during  his  transfer  from  the  palace  coach 
on  which  he  traveled  from  New  York  to  Saratoga 
to  the  car  that  was  to  convey  him  up  the  mountain  to 
MacGregor.  The  Grand  Army  veterans  and  the  local 
national  guard  company  gave  the  distinguished  visitor 
a  military  salute.  The  general  raised  himself  on  his 
crutches,  took  in  the  situation  at  a  glance,  and  as  he 
acknowledged  the  salute  with  his  hand,  the  old-time 
light  came  into  the  eye,  and  the  foremost  general  of 
modern  times  was  recognized  in  the  person  of  the 
almost  helpless  invalid. 

Thursday,  July  23,  1SS5,  the  news  of  the  brave  gen- 
eral and  honored  ex-President's  death  was  flashed  over 
the  wires  from  the  top  of  Mount  MacGregor,  and  a 
whole  nation  was  in  mourning.  Old  soldiers  met  in  the 
streets  and  grasped  each  other  by  the  hand.  "  The  old 
commander's  dead,"  was  about  all  they  could  say;  their 
sorrow  was  too  deep  for  words.      From  all  sections  of 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

the  Union,  and  from  across  the  ocean  messages  of  con- 
dolence and  sympathy  were  sent  to  the  bereaved  family 
at  MacGregor. 

I  attended  the  funeral  of  the  dead  hero  at  Mount 
MacGregor,  Tuesday,  August  4,  1SS5.  Of  the  pall- 
bearers two,  Buckner  and  Joe  Johnston,  had  fought 
under  the  stars  and  bars,  while  Sherman  and  Sheridan 
had  been  the  deceased  commander's  most  trusted  lieu- 
tenants. Never  before  had  a  funeral  taken  place  under 
such  circumstances.  The  exercises  were  remarkably 
impressive.  The  closing  verse  of  the  beautiful  hymn 
which  was  sung  before  the  Rev.  Dr.  J.  P.  Newman  began 
his  memorial  sermon  seemed  particularly  appropriate: 

"  When  ends  life's  transient  dream  ; 
When  death's  cold,  sullen  stream 

Shall  o'er  me  roll  ; 
Blest  Saviour,  then  in  love, 
Fear  and  distress  remove  ; 
O  bear  me  safe  above  — 

A  ransom'd  soul." 

After  Dr.  Newman's  glowing  tribute  came  the 
closing  hymn,  led  by  Mrs.  Whitney,  soprano,  of  Boston, 
and  in  which  the  congregation  joined  : 

"  Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee, 

Nearer  to  Thee  ! 
E'en  though  it  be  a  cross 

That  raiseth  me  ; 
Still  all  my  song  shall  be  — 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee  I 

Nearer  to  Thee  !  " 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

As  the  echoes  of  the  general's  favorite  hymn  rang 
through  the  tall  trees  that  surmounted  the  mountain 
top,  the  benediction  was  pronounced,  and  the  remains  of 
the  old  commander  were  borne  to  the  funeral  train. 
Gen.  Hancock  was  in  charge.  Down  the  mountain 
to  Saratoga  the  train  proceeded.  At  the  village  the 
casket  was  transferred  to  the  funeral  car  in  which  the 
remains  were  taken  to  Albany  and  subsequently  to  New 
York.  The  gallant  Sherman,  Sheridan,  Hancock  and 
other  noble  heroes  have  since  answered  their  last  roll- 
call  on  earth  —  gone  to  swell  the  ranks  of  the  great 
majority  beyond  the  river.  In  a  few  years  the  veterans 
who  fought  under  Grant  will  all  pass  over,  but  their 
deeds  of  valor  will  ever  live  in  song  and  story.  The 
name  of  Grant  is  inscribed  on  the  nation's  roll  of  pa- 
triots side  by  side  with  that  of  the  martyred  Lincoln. 
Of  the  hero  of  Appomattox  it  can  be  truly  said  that  he 
was 

"Our  greatest,  yet  with  least  pretense, 
Great  in  council  and  great  in  war, 
Foremost  captain  of  his  time, 
Rich  in  saving  common  sense, 
And,  as  the  greatest  only  are, 
In  his  simplicity  sublime." 


Note  — This  chapter  was  published  in  the  Troy  Daily  Times  at  the  time  of  Gen.  Gr; 
death,  and  it  is  deemed  best  toinsert  it  without  change,  although  the  events  are  not  presented  in  chi 
logical  order  with  the  other  chapters.  —  S.   P.  A. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

The  Company  Cook  and  the  Soldiers  Rations  —  Soap  in  the 
Soup  —  A  Stag  Da  nee—  The  Army  Sutler — A  Whiskey 
Barrel  Tapped  at  Both  Ends—  The  Long  Roll — Breaking  up 
Winter  Quarters  —  Good  Tilings  from  Nome — Stripped  for 
the  Fight. 


N  winter  quarters  kitchens  were  erected 
and  men  were  detailed  from  each  com- 
pany to  act  as  cooks.  It  was  easy 
enough  to  find  soldiers  who  would  sing- 
out  "here!"  when  the  first  sergeant  in- 
quired if  there  was  a  good  cook  in  the 
ranks.  Thoughts  of  extra  food  and  "  every  night  in 
bed  "  sometimes  prompted  men  who  had  never  even 
fried  a  slice  of  pork  to  step  to  the  front  and  announce 
themselves  as  experts  in  the  culinary  art.  These 
pretenders,  however,  were  not  permitted  to  spoil  more 
than  one  day's  rations.  As  soon  as  the  soldiers  had 
sampled  the  mystery  into  which  their  allowance  of 
food  had    been   transformed    bv  the    greenhorn    kettle 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 


slingers,  there  was  trouble  in  the  camp  until  a  change 
was  made  in  the  cook  house. 

One  day  a  company  I  boy  found  a  piece  of  soap  in 
his  soup.  The  discovery  was  not  made  until  he  had 
stowed  away  nearly  all  the  contents  of  his  quart  cup. 
He  had  felt  the  lump  in  the  bottom  with  his  spoon,  and 
had  congratulated  himself  on  the  supposed  mistake  of 
the  cook  in  leaving  a  piece  of  beef  in  the  broth.  He 
raised  it  out  of  the  cup  and  held  it  up  on  his  spoon  to 
exhibit  it  to  less  fortunate  comrades,  saying : 

"  Nothing  like  being  on  the  right  side  of  the  cook, 
boys.     How's  that  for  beef  ?  " 

"It's  rather  light-colored  for  Government  ox  —  let 
me  see !     If  it  isn't  soap  I'm  a  marine." 

"  Soap  ?  " 

"  Yes,  soap !  " 

"  And  in  my  soup !  Boys,  that  cook's  time  has 
come.  Who'll  stand  by  me  till  I  make  him  eat  this 
piece  of  soap? " 

"  You'll  have  to  go  it  alone;  you're  on  the  right  side 
of  the  cook,  you  know.  We've  got  nothing  to  do  with 
it.  He  knows  better  than  to  give  us  soup  with  soap 
in  it." 

"  But,  hold  on  a  minute  ;  all  the  soup  came  out  of 
the  same  kettle." 

"  Sure  enough  ;  he's  soap-souped  us  all.  Go  ahead  ; 
we're  with  you." 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

The  cook  would  have  been  roughly  handled  had  he 
not  called  on  the  officer  of  the  day  for  protection.  The 
cook  protested  that  the  soap  had  not  been  in  the  soup 
kettle,  but  must  have  fallen  off  the  shelf  over  the  win- 
dow as  the  soldier  held  his  tin  cup  through  the  opening 
to  receive  his  soup.  This  theory  was  gladly  accepted 
by  all  but  the  trooper  who  had  found  the  soap  in  his 
cup.     By  this  time  he  was  too  sick  to  be  aggressive. 

"  Boys,  send  my  body  home,"  he  moaned. 

"  Soap  suds,"  chorused  the  troopers  who  had  been 
relieved  from  the  terrible  suspicion  that  they  had  been 
fed  on  soap  also.  The  poor  victim  was  given  a  drink 
of  hospital  brandy  as  soon  as  he  could  retain  anything 
on  his  stomach.  He  was  on  the  sick  report  for  four  or 
five  days. 

Paragraph  1,190  of  the  Revised  Regulations  for  the 
Army  (1863),  fixed  the  soldier's  daily  ration  as  follows  : 

Twelve  ounces  of  pork  or  bacon,  or  one  pound  and  four  ounces  of  salt  or 
fresh  beef ;  one  pound  and  six  ounces  of  soft  bread  or  flour,  or  one  pound  of  hard 
bread,  or  one  pound  and  four  ounces  of  corn  meal ;  and  to  every  one  hundred 
rations,  fifteen  pounds  of  peas  or  beans,  and  ten  pounds  of  rice  or  hominy;  ten 
pounds  of  green  coffee,  or  eight  pounds  of  roasted  (or  roasted  and  ground)  coffee, 
or  one  pound  and  eight  ounces  of  tea;  fifteen  pounds  of  sugar;  four  quarts  of 
vinegar;  one  pound  and  four  ounces  of  adamantine  or  star  candles  ;  four  pounds 
of  soap;  three  pounds  and  twelve  ounces  of  salt;  four  ounces  of  pepper;  thirty 
pounds  of  potatoes,  when  practicable,  and  one  quart  of  molasses. 

I  have  quoted  the  exact  language  of  the  regulations 
for  the  information  of  civilians  who  every  now  and  then 
inquire  of  the  veterans:    "What  did  the  Government 


,m03m 


'soap  in  my  soup!"  he  exclaimed. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 


feed  you  fellows  on  down  in  Dixie  ?  "  Hard-tack,  salt 
pork  and  coffee  were  the  soldier's  mainstay.  The 
sweetest  meal  I  ever  ate  consisted  of  crumbs  of  hard- 
tack picked  up  out  of  the  dirt,  where  the  boxes  had 
been  opened  to  issue  crackers  to  the  troops,  and  a  piece 
of  salt  pork  that  had  been  thrown  away  by  an  infantry 
soldier.      I  still  cherish  the  memory  of  that  feast. 

There  were  two  or  three  violinists  in  our  battalion, 
and  the  boys  occasionally  induced  these  musicians  to 
fiddle  for  a  "  stag  dance,"  as  they  called  the  old-fashioned 
quadrille  in  which  troopers  with  their  caps  off  went 
through  "  ladies'  chain  "  and  other  figures  prescribed  for 
the  fair  partners  in  the  regulation  dance.  The  dances 
took  place  by  the  light  of  the  camp  fires  between  re- 
treat and  tattoo.  The  boys  managed  to  get  a  good  deal 
of  enjoyment  out  of  these  gatherings. 

Durino-  the  war  a  great  many  men  made  fortunes 
by  selling  goods  of  various  kinds,  including  provisions, 
to  the  soldiers.  The  army  traders  took  big  chances 
after  the  spring  campaign  opened,  unless  they  packed 
up  and  moved  to  the  rear  as  the  troops  marched  to  the 
front.  Yet  there  were  sutlers  who  followed  the  army 
even  on  dangerous  expeditions  into  the  enemy's  country. 
The  boys  contended  that  if  a  trader  could  sell  one 
wagon  load  of  goods  at  sutler's  prices  — and  get  his  pay 
—  he  could  afford  to  retire  or  to  lose  five  or  six  wagon 
loads.     There  was  much  truth  in  the  statement. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

Among  many  stories  current  in  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  about  "euchring  the  sutler,"  as  the  soldiers 
called  any  trick  by  which  they  could  secure  goods  with- 
out coming  down  with  the  cash,  was  the  following : 

The  troops  were  in  bivouac  on  the  James  River. 
The  boys  received  four  months'  pay,  and  there  was  no 
place  to  buy  anything  except  at  the  sutler's.  The 
trader  took  advantage  of  the  situation  and  marked  his 
goods  up  fifty  per  cent.  He  had  just  received  a  barrel 
of  whiskey,  which  he  was  retailing  at  fifty  cents  a  glass. 
The  sutler's  glass  held  a  little  more  than  a  thimbleful. 
There  was  a  run  on  the  whiskey  for  a  time.  Then  trade 
slacked  up,  and  the  sutler  was  at  a  loss  to  account  for 
it,  as  it  was  contrary  to  all  precedent,  the  rule  being 
that  the  more  liquor  the  boys  got  the  more  they  wanted. 

Finally  the  call  for  whiskey  ceased. 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  men?"  the  sutler 
asked  one  of  his  clerks. 

"  I  don't  know — they  never  acted  like  this  before." 

"  They're  not  buying  our  whiskey." 

"  No." 

"  And  many  of  them  seem  to  be  getting  drunk." 

"  That's  so." 

"  Must  be  somebody  else's  selling  in  camp.  I 
thought  we  had  a  corner  on  whiskey." 

"  So  did  I." 

"  Well,  you  go  out  and  see  what  you  can  find." 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

The  clerk  was  gone  about  five  minutes. 

"  Have  we  competition  ?  "  inquired  the  sutler,  as  the 
clerk  returned  to  the  tent. 

"  Well,  I  should  say  so." 

"  What  are  they  selling  at  ?  " 

"  Twenty-five  cents  a  drink." 

"  Just  half  our  price  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Where  are  they  located  ?  " 

"  Right  outside  our  tent." 

"  Where  do  they  keep  their  liquor  ?  " 

"  Take  hold  of  the  barrel  with  me  and  I'll  show  you." 

The  sutler  was  surprised  to  find  a  faucet  in  the  rear 
end  of  the  barrel  as  well  as  in  the  front  end  from  which 
he  had  been  drawing. 

"  Somebody  tapped  this  barrel  from  the  outside,"  he 
exclaimed. 

"  Yes,  and  retailed  your  liquor  at  twenty-five  cents  a 
drink  while  you  asked  fifty.  It's  no  wonder  they  drew 
all  the  customers,"  said  the  clerk. 

"  There's  but  a  little  whiskey  left  in  the  barrel  —  not 
more'n  a  gallon.  Don't  sell  another  drop  for  less  than 
two  dollars  a  glass." 

A  Down  East  Yankee  had  made  the  discovery  that 
the  sutler's  whiskey  barrel  was  so  placed  that  one  end  of 
it,  as  it  was  resting  on  boxes,  touched  the  canvas.  He 
went  around  behind  the   tent,  cut   a  hole   through    the 


DOWN    IX    DIXIE. 


canvas,  and  after  borrowing  a  brace  and  bit  from  an 
extra-duty  man  in  the  quartermaster's  department  and  a 
faucet  from  another  comrade  in  the  commissary  depart- 
ment, he  tapped  the 
sutler's  whiskey  barrel 
and  did  a  thriving 
business,  the  enterprise 
being  advertised  by 
word  of  mouth  through 
the  camp. 

It  never  failed  to 
be  noised  about  that 
something  was  in  the 
wind  several  days  be- 
fore the  receipt  of  or- 
ders for  any  movement 
of  importance.  The 
great  multitudes  of 
citizens  who  bore  arms 
under  the  flag  of  the 
Union  to  put  down  the  rebellion,  had  a  way  of  thinking 
for  themselves,  and  of  making  observations  of  what 
transpired  around  them,  that  was  exasperatingly  fatal  to 
the  regular  red-tape  idea  that  a  soldier  was  a  machine 
and  nothing  more.  When  it  became  necessary  to  per- 
form daring  deeds  in  the  very  jaws  of  death,  the  intelli- 
gent Yankee  volunteers  were  capable  of  understanding 


TAPPING  THE   SUTLER'S  WHISKEY   UAKREL. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

that  sacrifice  was  demanded.     And  they  made  it,  bravely 
and  without  complaint. 

Whenever  a  big  thing  was  on  the  programme  it  was 
next  to  impossible  to  keep  it  quiet.  The  old  soldiers 
seemed  to  grasp  the  situation  intuitively,  and  the  re- 
cruits generally  knew  more  about  it,  or  thought  they 
did,  than  the  generals  themselves. 

There  were  certain  signs  in  our  military  existence 
that  came  to  be  accepted  as  reliable.  Orders  from  bri- 
gade headquarters  to  have  the  horses  well  shod  at  once, 
meant  a  cavalry  expedition  into  the  enemy's  country. 
Extra  ammunition  for  the  light  batteries  that  belonged 
to  the  cavalry  corps  meant  that  the  movement  was  to  be 
a  reconnaissance  in  force.  The  assembling  of  a  division 
or  two  of  infantry  in  battle  trim  near  the  cavalry  outposts, 
with  several  days'  commissary  stores  in  transit,  showed 
that  an  attempt  was  to  be  made  to  gobble  up  another 
slice  of  the  Confederacy  or  make  a  break  in  the  com- 
munications of  the  rebels.  The  issuing  of  dog  tents, 
extra  ammunition  and  commissary  supplies  as  a  rule 
preceded  the  starting  of  an  expedition  against  the 
enemy.  A  sudden  dashing  out  of  camp,  light  saddle, 
and  unencumbered  with  anything  but  arms  and  ammu- 
nition, in  response  to  a  signal  from  the  outposts,  always 
gave  rise  to  the  suspicion,  frequently  confirmed  in  the 
heat  of  battle,  that  the  Johnnies  were  making  an  expe- 
dition against  us. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

The  rumors  of  a  general  advance  came  thicker  and 
faster  the  last  week  in  April,  and  May  the  third  the  long 
roll  was  sounded  by  the  brigade  buglers.  The  breaking 
up  of  winter  quarters  was  always  attended  with  scenes 
that  were  excruciatingly  funny.  What  a  lot  of  worthless 
old  plunder  the  soldiers  would  accumulate  !  It  always 
required  sorting  over  a  dozen  times  before  the  boys 
could  really  determine  just  what  to  leave  behind.  And 
then  it  invariably  happened  that  after  the  very  last  thing 
that  they  could  spare  or  think  of  abandoning  had  been 
cast  out  the  inspecting  officers  would  poke  around  and 
order  us  to  throw  out  the  articles  we  prized  most  highly. 

Railroad  communication  with  Washington  and  the 
North  had  made  it  comparatively  easy  for  us  to  secure 
creature  comforts,  and  many  delicacies  from  the  homes 
of  the  boys  in  blue  reached  our  camp.  Waterman  had 
received  a  large-sized  packing  box  full  of  good  things  to 
eat,  from  his  parents.  The  goodies  were  shared  among 
"  our  four  "  —  Waterman,  Taylor,  Horn  and  myself. 

The  first  feed  we  had  after  the  cover  of  Waterman's 
box  was  taken  off  brought  tears  to  our  eyes  —  tears  of 
joy,  of  course  —  but  somehow  the  taste  of  the  home-made 
pies  and  cake  produced  a  longing  for  home  and  mother 
which  was  made  all  the  more  intense  as  the  contents  of 
the  box  disappeared  and  we  came  face  to  face  with  the 
stern  reality  that  a  return  to  "  mule  beef  and  hard-tack  " 
was  inevitable. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

Waterman's  parents  resided  only  a  short  distance 
from  where  my  father  and  mother  lived  in  Berlin,  and 
when  his  box  was  sent  my  family  helped  to  fill  and  pack 
the  box.  Then  when  the  dear  people  at  home  thought 
our  food  must  be  getting  low  another  box  was  packed 
by  my  parents,  and  Waterman's  family  contributed  some 
of  the  good  things.  It  was  sent  by  express,  but  owing 
to  the  increased  demand  upon  the  railroads  and  trains 
to  forward  munitions  of  war  to  the  Army  of  the  Potomac, 
my  box  did  not  reach  Warrenton  until  the  morning 
that  we  started  for  the  Wilderness.  The  company  was 
drawn  up  in  line  waiting  to  move  forward  when  a  Gov- 
ernment wagon  arrived  loaded  with  boxes  and  packages 
for  the  troopers.  My  long-expected  box  was  thrown  out 
of  the  wagon,  and  I  obtained  permission  to  interview  it. 

I  pried  off  the  cover,  and  as  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
good  things  from  home,  I  felt  like  annihilating  the 
quartermaster's  department  that  had  held  back  my  box 
while  extra  supplies  of  ammunition  and  commissary 
stores  had  been  dispatched  to  the  front.  Just  then  the 
bugler  at  brigade  headquarters  sounded  "  forward." 
There  was  no  time  to  waste.  I  did  the  best  I  could 
under  the  circumstances  —  filled  my  haversack,  and  in- 
vited the  boys  in  the  company  to  help  themselves,  after 
"  our  four  "  had  stowed  away  all  we  could.  The  second 
platoon  swept  down  on  that  box,  and  in  less  than  a 
minute    the    boys    were    eating  home-made    pies    and 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

cookies  all  along  the  line.  A  picture  or  two,  a  pair  of 
knit  socks  and  a  few  souvenirs  were  secured  by  Water- 
man and  myself. 

"  Attention,  company  !  " 

"  Prepare  to  mount  !  " 

"  Mount !  " 

"  Form  ranks  !  " 

"  By  fours,  march  !  "  and  we  were  en  route  to  the 
Rapidan.  It  was  the  last  taste  of  home-made  grub  that 
we  enjoyed  till  the  campaign  was  over.  We  secured 
the  makings  of  a  square  meal  now  and  then  while  raid- 
ing around  Richmond,  but  the  territory  had  been  for- 
aged so  often  that  it  was  considered  mighty  poor  picking 
the  last  two  years  of  the  war. 

As  we  rode  forward,  we  found  that  everybody  was  on 
the  march  or  getting  ready  to  leave.  Lines  of  tents 
were  disappearing  on  all  sides  as  the  long  roll  sounded 
through  the  camps.  Supply  trains  were  moving  out, 
and  everything  was  headed  about  due  south.  As  we 
rode  by  the  bivouacs  of  the  infantry,  the  foot  soldiers, 
imitating  the  Johnnies,  would  sing  out : 

"  Hay,  there  !  where  be  you  all  goin'  ?  " 

"  Bound  for  Richmond." 

"  But  we  all  are  not  ready  to  move  out  yet." 

"  Then  we'll  drive  you  out." 

"  You  all  can't  whip  we  all.  Bob  Lee  will  drive  you 
all  back  as  he  has  done  before." 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

Then  there  would  be  a  general  laugh  all  along  the 
line  at  the  expression  in  this  semi-serious  way  of  an  idea 
that  had  gained  a  strong  lodgment  in  the  minds  of 
many  "peace  patriots  "  at  the  North.  The  soldiers  at 
the  front  who  were  doing  their  best  to  crush  out  rebel- 
lion did  not  share  in  the  feeling  that  the  Jeff  Davis 
government  would  carry  the  clay.  The  veterans  of 
Gettysburg  and  of  Antietam  knew  that  the  Union  army 
was  in  no  respect  inferior  to  the  chivalry  of  the  South 
—  man  to  man.  All  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  needed 
to  enable  it  to  fight  Lee's  army  to  the  finish,  and  win, 
was  a  commander  that  knew  what  fighting  to  a  finish 
meant.     Would  the  new  commander  fill  the  bill  ? 

President  Lincoln,  in  presenting  Grant's  commission 
as  lieutenant-general  at  the  White  House,  March  9, 
1864,  assured  the  modest  hero  from  the  West  that  "as 
the  country  herein  trusts  you,  so,  under  God,  it  will  sus- 
tain you."  A  few  days  after  the  lieutenant-general 
remarked:  "The  Army  of  the  Potomac  is  a  very  fine 
one,  and  has  shown  the  highest  courage.  Still,  I  think 
it  has  never  fought  its  battles  through."  The  Army  of 
the  Potomac  was  waiting  for  a  general  who  would  give 
it  an  opportunity  to  "  fight  its  battles  through."  All 
eyes  were  fixed  on  the  lieutenant-general.  The  result 
is  recorded  in  history. 

As  we  pressed  toward  the  Rapidan  there  were  evi- 
dences all  about  us  that  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  was 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

stripping  for  the  fight.  All  superfluous  baggage  and 
trappings  were  left  behind.  The  army  was  ready  to 
strike  a  powerful  blow  at  its  old  adversary,  and  the  con- 
flict was  at  hand.  Sheridan  was  at  the  head  of  the 
cavalry  corps.  As  we  came  in  sight  of  the  Rapidan  and 
made  preparations  for  swimming  the  river  with  our 
horses  to  cover  the  laying  of  the  pontoon  bridges,  so 
that  the  infantry  and  artillery  could  cross,  we  felt  that  a 
few  days  would  determine  whether  the  Army  of  the  Po- 
tomac would  go  "  on  to  Richmond,"  or,  bleeding  and 
shattered  from  an  unsuccessful  onslaught  upon  Lee's 
veterans,  fall  back  to  its  old  quarters,  as  it  had  done  on 
other  occasions. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

The  very  Man  Grant  Wanted — Sheridan  at  the  Head  of  the 
Cavalry — Lively  Times  in  the  Wilderness — Falling  Back  — 
Little  Phil  to  the  Rescue  —  A  Close  Call  for  the  Doe  tors  —  Tin- 
First  Night  After  the  Opening  of  the  Fight  —  A  Town  in 
Mourning. 


H   HIL  SHERIDAN    never   led   his  men 
into  a  ticklish  place  and  left  them  to  get 
out  by  themselves.     He  never  sent  his 
soldiers  on  a  dangerous  expedition  with- 
out   arranging    to     have    assistance    at 
-» ^  f^T  ft        hand  if  there  was  a  suspicion  that  help 
would  be  needed.     And  he  never  asked 
his  men  to  go  where  he  was  not  willing  to  go  himself. 
I   wish    I    had   known    all   this   on    the   morning  of 
Thursday,  May  5,  1S64.      It  would  have  saved  me  from 
a  great  deal  of  worry  about  the  fate  of  the  cavalry  corps 
in  the  Wilderness,  and  also  from  no  little  anxiety  as  to 
what  was  to  become  of  the  youngest  trooper  in   Com- 
pany I,  First  Massachusetts  cavalry.     But  Sheridan  was 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

new  to  the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  He  came  East  with 
Grant.  The  old  soldiers  in  our  brigade  had'  done  con- 
siderable kicking  because  a  number  of  cavalry  generals 
who  had  raided  around  in  Virginia,  had  been  jumped 
by  Sheridan. 

Gen.  Grant  in  his  "  Memoirs,"  says,  referring  to  his 
assuming  command  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac:  "In 
one  of  my  early  interviews  with  the  President,  I  ex- 
pressed my  dissatisfaction  with  the  little  that  had  been 
accomplished  by  the  cavalry  so  far  in  the  war,  and  the 
belief  that  it  was  capable  of  accomplishing  much  more 
than  it  had  done  if  under  a  thorough  leader.  I  said  I 
wanted  the  very  best  man  in  the  army  for  that  com- 
mand. Halleck  was  present,  and  spoke  up,  saying, 
'How  would  Sheridan  do?'  I  replied,  'The  very 
man  I  want.'  The  President  said  I  could  have  any- 
body I  wanted.  Sheridan  was  telegraphed  for  that  day, 
and  on  his  arrival  was  assigned  to  the  cavalry  corps  of 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac." 

Grant  was  right  —  he  was  always  right  —  and  Little 
Phil  not  only  proved  a  thorough  leader  of  the  cavalry 
corps,  but  he  demonstrated  his  ability  to  command  an 
army  in  one  of  the  most  successful  campaigns  of  the  war. 

"  Where  are  our  bosses  ?  "  demanded  a  Berkshire 
boy,  who  was  one  of  the  first  to  come  up  with  the  ser- 
geant and  two  men  left  to  guide  us  to  the  reserve,  as 
stated  in  the  last  chapter. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  In  the  woods  back  up  the   turnpike  about  a  mile." 

"  This  is  a  nice  way  to  treat  American  soldiers  !  " 
exclaimed  a  corporal,  who  had  left  both  his  boots  in  the 
mud  in  the  plowed  field.  "  I  can't  run  through  black- 
berry brush  barefooted !  " 

"  I'm  going  to  camp  here  till  they  bring  back  my 
horse  and  something  to  eat.  I  didn't  enlist  to  caper 
around  on  foot  in  such  a  place  as  this,"  said  another. 

I  volunteered  to  take  the  sergeant's  steed  and  go 
and  see  that  the  horses  were  sent  to  meet  us,  but  at 
that  moment  there  was  heard  the  noise  of  the  rebel 
cavalry  coming  in  on  our  flank  crashing  through  the 
bushes. 

"  You  couldn't  manage  my  horse  —  he's  so  fiery,"  said 
the  sergeant.  "  I  can't  hold  him  when  he  takes  it  into 
his  head  to  go  where  the  other  horses  are." 

Away  went  the  sergeant  and  the  two  men  who  had 
been  left  with  him,  on  a  gallop  up  the  road. 

"  Follow  me !  "  shouted  the  sergeant,  as  he  put 
spurs  to  his  charger. 

We  followed. 

As  the  sergeant  and  his  two  companions  turned  a 
bend  in  the  road,  rebel  cavalrymen,  who  had  penetrated 
the  jungle  almost  to  the  turnpike,  opened  fire  on  the 
three  troopers.  It  was  a  race  for  life.  The  bullets 
whistled  close  to  the  ears  of  the  Federals  as  they  dashed 
by  the  Johnnies  in  ambush.     Then   the  saddle  girth  of 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

one  of  the  privates  gave  way,  and  the  terrified  trooper 
was  left  sitting  on  his  saddle  in  the  middle  of  the  road, 
his  horse  going  on  with  the  procession.  He  shouted, 
"Whoa!"  The  "  rebel  yell  "  went  up  as  the  Yankee 
went  down.  It  stimulated  him  to  the  greatest  effort  of 
his  life.  Springing  to  his  feet  he  held  the  saddle  be- 
tween his  head  and  the  Confederates  to  shield  off  their 
bullets,  and  darted  into  the  bushes  to  the  left  of  the 
turnpike.  As  he  reached  the  thicket  he  threw  the  sad- 
dle back  into  the  road  and  shouted  defiantly  at  his 
would-be  executioners  : 

"  Take  the  old  saddle,  you  infernal  asses.  I've  got 
no  use  for  it  without  a  horse  !  " 

Then  he  bounded  away  through  the  forest,  keeping 
well  to  the  left  of  the  road.  He  was  a  pitiable  sight 
when  he  rejoined  the  company  that  night.  His  clothes 
were  literally  torn  off.  He  would  not  have  been  pre- 
sentable at  all  if  an  artilleryman  had  not  given  him 
a  spare  shirt.  It  may  be  stated  that  several  others 
reported  to  their  company  commander  in  about  the 
same  fix. 

Some  of  us  had  taken  such  a  deep  interest  in  what 
was  going  on  up  the  turnpike,  that  we  almost  forgot 
the  rebels  who  were  looking  for  us.  I  remember  that 
I  laughed,  tired  and  concerned  for  my  own  safety 
though  I  was.  The  ludicrous  figure  cut  bv  our  com- 
rade as  he  glanced  around   him  when   he  landed   in   the 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

road  and  yelled  "Whoa!"  —  as  if  a  runaway  horse 
would  stop  under  such  circumstances  —  was  too  much 
for  my  risibility.  But  I  did  not  have  my  laugh  out.  It 
was  interrupted  by  one  of  our  sergeants  shouting: 

"  Streak  it,  boys  —  here  they  come  !  " 

We  made  nearly  as  good  time  in  getting  away  from 
that  place  as  the  mounted  troopers  had  scored,  and  for 
the  same  reason.  The  butternut-clad  cavalrymen  fired 
their  carbines  almost  in  our  faces  at  the  first  round. 
We  needed  no  further  notice  to  take  to  the  woods.  It 
was  entirely  unnecessary  for  "  our  six-footer  corporal  " 
to  urge  us  to  "  remember  Lot's  wife,"  as  he  led  the  re- 
treat over  the  brow  of  the  hill  and  bounded  down  the 
slope  out  of  range. 

As  I  halted  after  crossing  the  divide  to  catch  my 
breath,  a  terrible  racket  broke  out  in  the  woods  to  the 
right.  As  near  as  I  could  judge,  not  having  paid  much 
attention  to  the  points  of  the  compass,  there  was  trouble 
somewhere  in  the  vicinity  of  the  turnpike  where  we  had 
parted  with  the  Confederates.  There  was  no  mistaking 
the  sounds.  There  was  fighting  out  there  in  the  woods, 
and  the  cheering  of  Federal  cavalrymen  was  heard  above 
the  yell  of  our  late  pursuers. 

"  We're  licking  'em  out  o'  their  boots  !  "  said  my 
bunkey,  who  had  kept  neck  and  neck  with  me  through 
the  woods. 

"  That's  what  we're  doinc" 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  I'd  go  back  and  take  a  hand  if  I  had  a  horse." 

"  So  would  I." 

Several  of  our  boys  ventured  to  the  top  of  the  hill, 
and  then  along  the  ridge  toward  the  turnpike.  They 
soon  came  to  a  rail  fence,  and  on  the  other  side  of  it 
was  a  squadron  of  Federal  cavalry  drawn  up  in  line. 

It  did  not  take  us  long  to  introduce  ourselves.  We 
ascertained  from  the  troopers  who  belonged  to  the 
Tenth  New  York  that  our  regiment  was  on  the  other 
side  of  the  road  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  north.  By 
this  time  the  firing  on  our  front  had  dwindled  down  to 
irregular  skirmishing. 

As  we  were  getting  over  the  fence  to  go  in  the 
direction  pointed  out,  Sheridan  rode  up.  He  came 
from  the  front,  and  was  greeted  with  a  hearty  cheer 
that  was  echoed  by  cavalry  posted  away  to  the  left,  and 
also  by  those  of  us  who  had  breath  enough  left  to  shout. 
"  Little  Phil  "  waved  his  hat,  which  he  was  holding  in 
his  hand. 

"  Our  line  is  all  right,  boys,"  and  he  galloped  up  the 
turnpike  to  report  to  Grant,  who  was  at  Meade's 
headquarters. 

Sheridan  had  inflicted  severe  punishment  on  the 
rebel  cavalry  that  had  come  in  on  our  flank.  He  was 
informed  of  the  condition  of  affairs  at  the  front,  and  at 
the  time  our  battalion  was  ordered  to  fall  back,  a  line 
had    been    formed    further  up    the    turnpike    ready    to 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

receive  the  rebels.  The  road  was  left  clear,  and  as 
Hampton's  "  critter  companies  "  followed  the  dis- 
mounted Union  troopers,  they  fell  into  the  trap.  Then 
they  went  back  faster  than  they  had  come.  Sheridan's 
troopers  charged,  and  the  chagrined  gray-coats  were 
driven  way  beyond  the  ravine  where  our  battalion  had 
held  the  line  of  the  rail  fence  before  our  ammunition 
failed. 

As  the  memory  of  that  day's  events  comes  to  me 
now,  there  is  a  sprinkling  of  regret  that  I  was  forced  to 
"streak  it"  through  the  Wilderness.  It  completely 
destroyed  my  confidence  in  the  ability  of  our  regiment 
to  put  down  the  rebellion  single-handed  at  one  fell 
swoop.  And,  moreover,  a  good  many  of  us  were  almost 
naked  when  we  reached  the  horses  after  our  run  through 
the  forest.  Yet  it  was  necessary  that  sacrifices  should 
be  made.  Sheridan  was  fishing  .with  live  bait,  and  it 
was  part  of  the  programme  that  the  bait  should  be  kept 
moving. 

When  I  reached  my  company,  which  was  waiting 
orders  near  the  turnpike  leading  to  Todd's  Tavern,  I 
was  informed  that  my  horse  had  been  killed  by  a  shell 
while  the  animals  were  being  led  to  the  rear.  I  felt 
the  loss  of  my  horse  keenly.  And  then  my  saddle-bags 
were  gone,  with  the  picture  of  my  best  girl  and  other 
memories  of  home. 

Orders  came  for  the  regiment  to  move  a  little  further 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

to  the  left.  An  infantry  brigade  was  forming  on  our 
right.  There  had  been  serious  business  on  the  other 
side  of  a  strip  of  woods  to  the  right  of  the  line  occupied 
by  the  cavalry.  Wounded  men  were  carried  to  the  rear 
on  stretchers.  Several  army  surgeons  had  ventured  to 
establish  a  field  hospital  well  up  to  the  front  line.  The 
Johnnies  may  have  had  a  hankering  for  the  medical 
stores  in  the  hospital  chests  that  were  unpacked  so 
temptingly  near  the  enemy,  for  they  made  a  dash  for 
the  wagons.  But  this  time  the  Confederates  made  a 
mistake.  The  infantry  holding  the  line  in  front  of  the 
"  doctors'  den  "  peppered  the  gray-coats  until  the  would-be 
consumers  of  United  States  spiritus  fermenti  were  glad 
to  turn  and  get  back  out  of  range  as  fast  as  their  legs 
could  carry  them. 

The  narrow  escape  of  the  medical  men  showed  that 
they  had  spread  out  their  operating  instruments  too  near 
the  enemy,  and  the  base  of  operations  was  removed  over 
a  hill  to  the  rear.  There  was  a  stampede  when  the 
rebels  charged  to  break  the  line  in  front  of  the  field 
hospital,  and  a  horse  belonging  to  one  of  the  surgeons 
dashed  down  the  turnpike.  The  infantrymen  made  no 
effort  to  stop  the  animal  —  the  average  foot  soldier  was 
afraid  of  a  horse  —  and  it  occurred  to  me  that  the  horse 
was  just  about  what  I  needed  to  complete  my  outfit. 
My  heart  beat  a  double  tattoo  as  I  attempted  to  spread 
myself  across  the  road  to  intercept  the   runaway.      He 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

came  on  at  full  speed,  but  as  he  shied  toward  the  fence 
to  pass  by  me,  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  catch  the 
bridle  rein,  and  that  horse  was  mine  —  till  further 
orders. 

I  examined  the  saddle  girths  and  found  everything 
in  good  shape.     After  I  had  taken  up  the  stirrup  straps 

—  the  doctor's  legs  were  considerably  longer  than  mine 

—  I  mounted  the  prize,  and  once  more  felt  there  was  a 


TAKING    POSSESSION'    OF   THE    RUNAWAY. 


possibility  that  the  Southern  Confederacy  might  be  con- 
quered !  Then  I  took  an  inventory  of  the  contents  of 
the  doctor's  saddle-bags.  There  was  a  bottle  of  hospital 
brandy  in  one  of  the  bags.  It  was  the  "  genuine  stuff," 
as  Sergeant  Warren  remarked  that  night  when  I  allowed 
him  to  sample  it.  I  investigated  further  and  found  a 
field  glass,  several  boxes  of  pills,  a  few  rolls  of  bandages 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

and  lint,  with  a  small  case  of  instruments.  There  were 
two  six-shooters  in  the  holsters  on  the  pommel  of  the 
saddle,  and  a  surgeon's  regulation  sword  fastened  on  the 
left  side.  A  canteen,  and  a  haversack  containing  a 
couple  of  ham  sandwiches,  a  piece  of  cheese  and  a  can 
of  condensed  milk  were  included  in  the  outfit.  I 
whistled  dinner  call  at  once,  and  made  an  excellent 
meal  on  what  the  medical  man  had  provided  for  his 
supper.      Then  I  rejoined  my  company. 

The  Wilderness  was  full  of  terror  when  night  came 
on  and  spread  its  mantle  of  darkness  over  the  scenes  of 
bloodshed.  On  every  hand  could  be  heard  the  groans 
of  the  wounded  and  dying.  The  gathering  of  the  un- 
fortunates went  on  all  night,  and  the  poor  fellows  were 
borne  to  the  field  hospitals.  There  was  heavy  firing  at 
intervals.  Here  and  there  the  bivouac  fires  lighted  up 
the  otherwise  Eygptian  darkness  and  served  to  make 
the  shadows  all  the  darker,  and  to  give  the  surroundings 
a  weird  and  dismal  aspect.  It  seemed  as  if  daylight 
would  never  return.  When  it  did  break  we  hailed  it 
joyfully,  although  we  knew  that  the  light  of  the  new- 
born day  would  witness  a  renewal  of  the  conflict. 

We  did  not  unsaddle  our  horses  that  night,  but 
along  about  midnight  we  were  given  an  opportunity  to 
feed  our  chargers  and  make  coffee  for  ourselves.  Pre- 
ceding the  feed  the  company  rolls  were  called  by  the 
first  sergeants.      In  Company  I  not  more  than   fifty  per 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

cent,  of  the  number  on  the  roll  responded — I  mean  of 
the  number  that  had  charged  down  the  turnpike  Thurs- 
day morning.  A  majority  of  the  boys  who  failed  to 
show  up  at  the  first  roll-call  in  the  Wilderness  put  in  an 
appearance  later  on. 

It  was  the  same  with  other  regiments.  In  a  battle 
like  that  of  the  Wilderness  there  was  a  good  deal  of  the 
go-as-you-please,  especially  if  there  were  charges  and  re- 
treats and  frequent  changes  in  formations.  Details 
would  be  made  from  companies  for  skirmishes  and 
other  duties,  and  the  men  so  detailed  when  they  re- 
turned were  unable  to  find  their  companies,  their  regi- 
ments having  been  transferred  to  another  part  of  the 
field.  I  recall  an  incident  of  the  Battle  of  the  Wilderness 
that  was  the  cause  of  a  whole  town  going  into  mourning  : 

Company  B  of  the  One  hundred  and  twenty-fifth 
New  York  Volunteers  contained  many  Berlin  boys.  In 
one  of  the  movements  in  the  Wilderness  that  regiment 
marched  past  the  First  Massachusetts.  I  was  on  the 
watch  for  Company  B.  I  think  it  was  after  the  second 
day's  battle.  The  One  hundred  and  twenty-fifth  had 
been  fighting  furiously  somewhere  near  the  Brock  road, 
and  the  slaughter  had  been  great.  The  ranks  of  the 
regiment  were  depleted,  and  when  I  spotted  the  Berlin 
boys  I  saw  that  B  Company  had  suffered  badly.  There 
were  only  two  or  three  faces  that  I  recognized.  Rube 
Fry  was  one,  I  think. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  Halloo,  Company  B  !  " 

"  Halloo  !  —  there's  Alex  Allen's  boy." 

"  Where's  the  rest  of  the  company  —  the  Berlin 
boys  ?  " 

"  All  killed  but  six." 

"  It  will  be  sad  news  for  Berlin." 

"  Yes ;  and  it  will  be  a  wonder  if  any  of  us  escape  if 
we  don't  get  out  of  the  Wilderness  pretty  soon." 

"  It  will  indeed." 

"  Good-by." 

"  Good-by,  Rube.     I'll  write  home  if  I  get  a  chance." 

I  got  the  chance  the  day  that  we  started  on  Sheri- 
dan's raid  —  May  S.  I  wrote  the  news  just  as  I  had 
received  it.  There  was  mourning  all  over  the  town 
when  that  letter  reached  Berlin.  The  news  from  the 
front  was  contradicted,  however,  soon  after  by  letters 
from  several  of  the  boys  who  had  been  included  in  the 
list  of  casualties  I  had  sent  home.  It  seems  that  a  part 
of  the  One  hundred  and  twenty-fifth  was  sent  on 
picket  duty  to  the  left,  and  a  charge  had  been  made  by 
the  men  not  included  in  the  detail.  Lieut.-Col.  A.  B. 
Myer  and  thirty-four  men  out  of  one  hundred  and  four 
who  made  the  charge  were  killed.  Somehow  the  report 
had  been  started  that  all  the  rest  of  the  regiment  had 
been  killed  or  wounded  or  taken  prisoners.  I  was  re- 
joiced to  learn  when  I  next  met  the  One  hundred  and 
twenty-fifth,   after    Sheridan's   raid,   that    the   report    of 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 


the  casualties  in  Company  B  sent  home  in  my  letter 
after  the  Battle  of  the  Wilderness  was  exaggerated. 

I  find  in  the  roster  of  B  Company  as  given  in 
the  history  of  the  One  hundred  and  twenty-fifth  New 
York  Volunteers  by  Chaplain  Ezra  D.  Simons  of  that 
regiment,  that  none  of  B  Company  was  killed  in  the 
Wilderness,  and  only  five  were  wounded. 

But  B  Company  did  not  escape  so  luckily  in  the 
battle  of  Spottsylvania,  following  close  on  the  heels  of 
the  Wilderness.  Several  were  killed  outright  and  a 
number  wounded.  The  company  lost  twenty-four  men, 
killed  and  died,  during  its  service  —  a  number  far  above 
the  average  of  companies  throughout  the  army.  The 
One  hundred  and  twenty-fifth  made  a  splendid  record. 
I  was  always  glad  to  run  across  the  regiment  at  the 
front,  and  to  compare  notes  with  the  Berlin  boys  in 
Company  B. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

A  Council  of  War—  Observations  at  Daylight — The  Second 
Day  in  the  Wilderness  —  Xot  to  Fall  Back—  The  Rebel  Yell 
—  1 lie  Third  Day  —  Custer  at  Work  —  An  Ideal  Cavalry 
Officer 


T    daybreak  we    expected   to    renew    the 
Battle  of  the  Wilderness  —  if  the  rebels 
did  not  pitch   into  us  again  during  the 
L^Rf°x)  /*V    night.      The  enlisted  men  of  our  com- 
<^J>  -      a     pany  held  a  council   of  war  before  any 
-  •—-'tftfc    of  them  availed  themselves  of  the  privi- 
lege of  turning  in  for  a  snooze. 
"  I    wonder  if  the   Johnnies    will   skedaddle   before 
morning?  "  said  one  of  the  boys  who  had  been  back  at 
Ely's  ford  and  had  not  participated  in  the  first  day's  fight. 
"  You  had  better  take  a  sleep.     We'll  call  you  if  the 
enemy  shows  up  before  reveille." 

"  All  right,  here  goes.  I  can  sleep  one  night  more 
with  a  clear  conscience,  for  my  hands  have  not  been 
stained  with  the  blood  of  a  single  enemy." 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

Of  course,  these  remarks  were  made  jokingly.  No 
matter  how  serious  the  situation  might  be,  there  was 
always  a  disposition  among  the  soldiers  to  make  light 
of  it.  After  the  "  re-enforcement  "  had  retired  the  coun- 
cil was  continued. 

"  I  don't  think  it's  fair  to  ask  the  cavalry  to  fight  on 
foot  as  we  did  yesterday." 

"  But  what  else  could  we  do  when  we  come  to  that 
high  fence  ?  " 

"  We  might  have  stopped  and  waited  for  the 
Johnnies  to  charge  us." 

"  Well,  I  guess  Phil  Sheridan  knows  how  to  fight 
his  men  better'n  we  know  ourselves." 

"  We'll  have  another  fight  in  the  morning." 

"  Certainly." 

"  And  there'll  be  more  of  us  killed  and  wounded." 

"  Yes." 

"  I  wonder  whether  we're  whipped,  or  the  rebels 
have  got  the  worst  of  it  ? 

"  Can't  tell  till  daylight,  we're  all  mixed  up  so." 

"  But  Grant  must  know." 

"  That's  so  —  but  where's  Grant?" 

"  He's  with  Meade  back  near  that  old  quartz  mill 
where  we  had  dinner  the  day  we  crossed  the   Rapidan." 

"  The  lieutenant  told  me  that  Grant's  orders  are  for 
our  side  to  make  an  attack  at  three  o'clock." 

"  Then  we're  not  whipped." 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  Not  if  we've  got  orders  to  open  the  ball  in  the 
morning.     Let's  get  what  rest  we  can." 

"  All  right." 

About  three  o'clock  Friday  morning  —  we  were 
taking  turns  in  sleeping  —  I  called  upon  my  bunkey  to 
"get  out  of  bed  and  let  me  get  in." 

"  I  haven't  been  asleep  yet." 

"  That's  your  own  fault ;  you've  had  time  enough." 

"  I  was  just  getting  good  and  sleepy  —  but  I'm  not 
piggish.     Take  the  bed." 

I  stretched  myself  on  the  piece  of  tent,  and  tried  to 
go  to  sleep.  But  it  was  no  easy  thing  to  settle  down. 
The  events  of  the  day  —  the  attack  on  our  picket  line, 
charging  down  the  turnpike,  exciting  experiences  at  the 
rail  fence,  fighting  on  foot,  charging  across  the  plowed 
field,  holding  the  enemy  in  check,  falling  back  when 
flanked  by  the  rebels,  Sheridan's  punishment  of  our 
pursuers  —  all  crowded  themselves  to  the  front,  and  it 
seemed  a  year  since  we  broke  camp  at  Warrenton.  I 
had  never  been  in  a  pitched  battle  before,  and  I  tried  to 
remember  the  events  in  their  order  that  I  might  be 
able  to  write  them  down  as  a  basis  tor  a  letter  to  friends 
at  home.  The  more  I  tried  to  straighten  things  out 
the  more  I  got  mixed.  I  dropped  to  sleep,  but  just 
as  I  was  describing  the  battle  to  a  group  of  villagers 
at  Berlin,  I  was  brought  suddenly  back  to  the  front  by 
a  sergeant  who  was  poking  me  with  his  siber  scabbard. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  Private  Allen,  turn  out  for  picket." 

"  But  I've  only  just  turned  in.  There's  my  bunkey; 
can't  you  take  him  ?  he's  already  turned  out  after  a  good 
long  nap  "  — 

"  No  back  talk,  out  with  you  !  " 

I  was  on  my  feet  as  soon  as  I  awoke  sufficiently  to 
realize  the  situation. 

"  Mount  your  horse,  and  report  to  Sergeant  Murphy 
out  there  in  the  road.      Is  your  cartridge  box  full  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Hundred  rounds  extra  in  your  saddle-bags?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Mount  at  will,  and  go  ahead." 

Sergeant  Murphy  took  charge  of  a  detail  from  sev- 
eral companies.  We  rode  down  the  road  a  few  rods, 
and  a  staff  officer  then  assumed  command  of  the 
detachment. 

"  We're  to  go  out  beyond  the  picket  line  and  watch 
the  movements  of  the  rebels  at  daybreak,"  the  lieutenant 
informed  Sergeant  Murphy. 

In  fifteen  minutes  we  were  at  the  last  picket  post 
out  toward  Todd's  Tavern. 

"  Detail  a  man  to  ride  ahead,  Sergeant,"  the  officer 
directed. 

I  had  ridden  close  up  to  the  officer  to  hear  all  I 
could  about  the  prospects  of  a  fight,  and  the  sergeant 
detailed  me. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  The  object  of  keeping  a  man  well  to  the  front," 
the  officer  said  to  the  sergeant,  "  is  to  draw  the'  enemy's 
fire  should  we  run  into  the  rebel  pickets,  and  thus  pre- 
vent the  detachment  from  falling  into  an  ambush." 

"  Very  proper,  sir,"  assented  the  sergeant. 

"  You  will  ride  down  the  road,  keeping  a  hundred 
yards  or  so  from  the  head  of  the  column,"  the  lieuten- 
ant said  to  me.  "  Load  your  carbine  and  keep  it  ready 
for  use,  but  don't  fire  unless  the  enemy  opens  on  you, 
for  it  is  desired  to  secure  a  favorable  position  for  watch- 
ing the  movements  of  the  rebels  as  soon  as  it  is  light 
enough." 

It  was  quite  dark  down  there  in  the  woods.  I  did 
not  take  kindly  to  the  thought  that  I  was  to  be  used  as 
a  target  for  the  rebel  pickets.  This  riding  to  the  front 
to  draw  the  enemy's  fire  was  a  new  experience  to  me. 
But  I  tried  to  comfort  myself  with  the  hope  that  we 
were  so  far  out  on  the  left  that  we  would  not  encounter 
the  Confederates. 

The  advance  business  was  as  new  to  the  doctor's 
horse  as  it  was  to  me.  I  had  to  use  my  spurs  freely  to 
induce  him  to  go  down  the  road  ahead  of  the  other 
horses.  We  got  started  after  awhile,  and  the  still  hunt 
for  Lee's  right  and  rear  was  begun. 

It  was  lonesome  work  for  man  and  beast.  Suddenly, 
and  without  any  intimation  of  what  he  intended  to  do. 
the  horse  began   to  neigh.      It    may  have  been  in  the 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

animal's  "  ordinary  tone  of  voice,"  but  to  me  it  seemed 
to  be  loud  enough  to  be  heard  way  back  to  the  Rapi- 
dan.  I  expected  the  Johnnies  would  open  fire  at  once. 
The  staff  officer  rode  up  to  me  —  after  waiting  long 
enough  for  me  to  draw  the  enemy's  fire  if  they  were 
close  at  hand  —  and  said  : 

"  What's  the  matter?" 

"  Horse  '  whickered,'  sir." 

"  What  made  him  ?  " 

"  Can't  tell,  sir;  he  broke  out  without  any  notice." 

"  Ever  do  it  before  ?  " 

"  Don't  know.  I  only  got  him  yesterday  afternoon. 
He  belonged  to  an  infantry  doctor  who  was  shot." 

11  That  accounts  for  it ;  a  doughboy  horse  don't 
know  anything  about  this  kind  of  work!  Take  your 
place  at  the  rear  of  the  detachment,  and  if  that  horse 
neighs  again,  break  his  head  with  your  carbine." 

"  All  right,  sir." 

Another  man  was  sent  to  the  front,  and  we  moved 
on.  YVe  did  not  run  into  the  rebel  pickets,  and  the 
officer  said  we  must  be  further  to  the  left  than  the 
right  of  Lee's  line.  We  halted  on  the  top  of  a  hill 
where  the  road  turned  westward  and  waited  for  daylight. 

As  soon  as  it  became  light  enough  for  the  officer  to 
take  observations  with  his  field-glass,  he  rode  to  the 
highest  point  he  could  find  and  surveyed  the  broken 
country   in   our   front.      He   could   not  see   far   in   any 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

direction,  as  the  woods  were  thick  and  there  was  little 
cleared  land. 

"  Come  here,  Sergeant,"  the  lieutenant  called  to 
Murphy,  after  looking  off  to  the  west  for  a  few  seconds 
through  his  glass.     "  Look  over  there." 

"  Rebels,  sir,"  said  the  sergeant. 

"  Yes  ;  cavalry  moving  over  this  way.  We  will  re- 
turn at  once." 

We  went  back  up  the  turnpike  at  a  gallop. 

•'  What's  up?  "  inquired  the  officer  in  charge  of  the 
outposts  when  we  reached  our  pickets. 

"  The  rebels  are  up  and  moving  around  to  get  on  our 
left  flank.  Keep  a  good  lookout  and  be  ready  to  move 
at  once.  I  will  report  to  Gen.  Sheridan,  and  there  will 
soon  be  lively  work." 

Sheridan's  cavalry  was  in  the  saddle  and  en  route  to 
Todd's  Tavern  within  twenty  minutes  after  our  return 
from  the  reconnaissance  in  that  direction.  The  cavalry 
was  to  connect  with  the  left  of  the  infantry  commanded 
bv  Gen.  Hancock.  The  staff  officer's  prediction  that 
there  would  be  lively  work  on  our  left  was  fulfilled. 
Sheridan  was  in  time  to  intercept  Stuart's  advance 
along  the  Furnace  road,  a  few  miles  northwest  of  Todd's 
Tavern.    It  was  hot  work. 

There  was  desperate  fighting  as  the  troopers  came 
together  at  the  intersection  of  the  Brock  and  the  Fur- 
nace roads.     Jeb   Stuart's  attempt  to  get  around  in  our 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

rear  to  make  a  dash  on  the  wagon  trains  of  the  Army 
of  the  Potomac,  and  to  smash  things  generally,  was  a 
complete  failure.  He  was  driven  back  from  the  Fur- 
nace road,  and  after  a  stubborn  stand  at  Todd's  Tavern 
the  rebel  cavalry  leader  was  forced  to  call  off  his  troops 
and  fall  back  from  Sheridan's  immediate  front. 

In  the  afternoon,  having  been  re-enforced,  and  after 
being  ordered  by  Lee  to  turn  Grant's  left,  Stuart  again 
attacked  the  Federal  troopers.  He  was  assisted  by  in- 
fantry, but  Little  Phil  refused  to  budge  an  inch  from 
the  position  held  at  Todd's  Tavern.  The  rebels  were 
driven  back  with  heavy  loss.  In  the  meantime  the 
entire  army  was  engaged,  and  the  fighting  was  con- 
tinued all  day. 

A  rebel  trooper  of  Fitzhugh  Lee's  division,  taken 
prisoner  the  evening  of  May  6,  inquired  : 

"  Who's  you  all  fightin'  under  this  time  ?  " 

"  Grant." 

"  I  reckoned  so  ;  but  who's  overseer  of  the  critter 
companies  ?  " 

"  Sheridan." 

"  He's  a  doggoned  good  'un.  Fitz  Lee  knew  what 
he  was  talkin'  'bout  when  he  told  Wade  Hampton  that 
we  all  would  be  'bliged  to  take  care  of  our  own  flanks 
this  trip." 

"  You're  right,  Johnny." 

"  Be  you  all  headed  for  Richmond,  sure  'nough  ? " 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  That's  where  we're  going." 

"  Bat  what  be  you  all  to  do  with  me?  " 

"  We'll  send  you  North,  and  let  you  live  on  the  fat 
of  the  land  till  we  gobble  up  the  rest  of  the  rebel  army." 

"  Stranger,  do  you  mean  it  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  Hallelujah !  I'm  ready  to  be  fatted.  Where's 
you  all's  commissary  department  ?  " 

He  was  sent  to  the  rear  with  the  other  prisoners. 

At  the  close  of  the  second  day's  battle  in  the  Wil- 
derness, the  report  was  current  among  the  troopers  of 
Sheridan's  cavalry  corps,  that  the  Army  of  the  Potomac 
would  retire  from  the  front  of  Lee's  army  in  that  Vir- 
ginia jungle  and  fall  back  to  Fredericksburg,  which 
would  be  occupied  as  a  new  base  of  supplies  pending 
the  re-organization  of  the  army  to  again  move  "  On  to 
Richmond  !  " 

There  is  no  denying  the  fact  that  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  was  seriously  crippled.  An  order  to  fall  back 
to  the  north  bank  of  the  Rapidan  would  have  been  ac- 
cepted as  a  matter  of  course  had  the  new  commander 
directed  such  a  movement.  But  if  some  of  the  soldiers 
had  known  Grant  better,  they  would  have  spent  less 
time  that  night  in  speculating  whether  the  line  of  re- 
treat would  be  by  the  Germania  plank  road  or  over  the 
route  to  Ely's  ford. 

It  turned  out  that  Grant  did  not  discover  that  the 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  Yankees  were  whipped  in  the  Wilderness"  until  he 
read  an  account  of  the  "  rout  of  the  Federal  army  "  in  a 
Richmond  paper  at  Spottsylvania  a  few  days  later.  Of 
course,  it  was  then  too  late  for  the  Union  commander  to 
use  the  information  to  any  advantage.  It  may  be  re- 
marked also,  that  Lee  had  not  heard  of  Grant's  defeat 
until  he  received  the  news  via  the  rebel  capital. 

There  was  a  disposition  on  the  part  of  a  few- 
brigades  on  the  Union  right  to  get  back  across  the 
Rapidan  without  waiting  for  orders  Friday  night.  Gen. 
Gordon  of  Georgia  made  a  desperate  effort  to  demor- 
alize the  Federals  by  charging  Grant's  right,  coming  in 
on  the  flank.  He  gobbled  up  a  brigade  or  two,  and 
sent  a  good  many  blue-coats  flying  back  toward  the 
river.  But  the  fugitives  could  not  find  their  way  out  of 
the  Wilderness,  and  they  halted  before  going  far.  for 
fear  they  would -get  turned  around  and  run  into  the 
enemy.  The  gallant  Sedgwick  again  demonstrated  his 
fighting  qualities.  He  did  not  intend  that  the  colors  of 
the  sixth  corps  —  the  banner  with  the  Greek  cross  — 
should  go  down.  Sedgwick  brought  order  out  of  chaos. 
He  drove  back  the  Confederates  and  saved  the  day  — 
or  the  night,  as  Gordon's  charge  was  made  after  dark- 
ness had  set  in. 

Every  hour  or  so  during  the  night,  the  Johnnies 
would  give  us  the  rebel  yell.  These  outbreaks  occa- 
sioned  alarm  on  our  side  at  first,  but  after  the  terrible 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

din  had  died  out  several  times  without  the  appearance 
of  the  boys  in  butternut,  we  concluded  that  the  enemy 
was  shouting  to  keep  up  courage  for  a  general  attack 
in  the  morning. 

We  had  no  opportunity  to  sleep  —  I  mean  to  go 
into  camp  and  stretch  our  weary  bodies  at  full  length 
on  the  ground  for  a  season.  About  the  time  we  would 
begin  to  congratulate  ourselves  on  the  prospects  of  a 
nap  we  would  be  ordered  into  the  saddle,  ready  to  repel 
an  attack.  There  were  any  number  of  false  alarms. 
Old  soldiers  will  remember  how  exasperating  it  was  to 
be  hustled  out  at  the  dead  of  night,  marched  here  and 
there  —  "  up  and  down  and  through  the  middle  "  —  only 
to  find  that  somebody  had  made  a  bull.  We  marched 
several  times  during  the  night,  sometimes  going  a  hun- 
dred yards.  When  daylight  came  Saturday  morning 
we  found  ourselves  within  three  hundred  yards  of  the 
spot  where  we  bivouacked  Friday  night.  We  had  been 
moved  around  like  men  on  a  checker-board  —  one  man 
trying  to  catch  another  in  the  double  corner,  so  to  speak ; 
"hawing  and  geeing,"  as  a  Berkshire  boy  expressed  it. 

The  Battle  of  the  Wilderness  ended  Friday  night, 
from  an  infantry  standpoint,  but  Sheridan's  cavalry  had 
fighting  enough  Saturday  to  prevent  them  from  getting 
rusty.  We  were  given  to  understand  early  in  the  morn- 
ing that  the  army  was  to  go  on.  While  the  infantry 
were  cutting  the  pegs  out  of  their  shoes,  and  burying 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

the  dead  Saturday,  the  troopers  were  feeling  the  enemy 
over  on  the  left  toward  Spottsylvania.  There  was  a 
good  deal  of  trouble  in  locating  Lee's  line  of  battle. 
The  rebels  had  not  felt  safe  outside  their  breastworks 
after  Gordon  had  failed  to  double  up  our  right.  When 
they  were  found  by  our  pickets  Saturday  morning,  they 
seemed  to  have  lost  their  thirst  for  Yankee  blood  so  far 
as  coming  outside  to  rebuke  our  curiosity  was  con- 
cerned. A  reconnaissance  by  Gen.  Warren  of  the 
Fifth  Corps  occasioned  a  suspicion  that  the  infantry 
were  at  it  again,  as  the  firing  was  lively  in  Warren's 
front  for  a  few  minutes.  Lee  did  not  accept  the  chal- 
lenge, and  no  general   engagement  was  brought  on. 

There  was  a  sharp  set-to  between  Stuart's  cavalry 
and  the  first  brigade  of  the  first  division  of  Sheridan's 
corps,  commanded  by  Gen.  G  A.  Custer,  early  Saturday 
morning.  The  rebels  found  Custer  an  ugly  customer. 
They  skedaddled  to  Todd'sTavern,  after  vainly  trying  to 
check  the  advance  of  the  boys  in  blue. 

Gen.  Custer  was  an  ideal  cavalry  officer.  He  was 
something  like  six  feet  in  height,  and  sat  his  horse  per- 
fectly. He  was  one  of  the  youngest  generals  in  the 
army,  having  won  the  star  of  a  brigadier  before  he  was 
twenty-four  years  old.  His  pleasant  blue  eye  seemed  to 
fire  up  with  the  first  intimation  of  battle.  His  appear- 
ance was  all  the  more  striking  because  of  his  long 
wavy  hair  and  his  dashing  make-up,  which   included  a 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

large  red  necktie.  His  brigade  adopted  the  red  tie  as 
a  part  of  their  uniform,  and  Custer's  troops  could  be 
distinguished  at  long  range.  It  was  a  common  saying 
in  the  cavalry  corps  that  the  rebels  preferred  to  have 
nothing  to  do  with  Custer's  brigade  except  at  "  long 
range,"  and  therein  the  Confederates  exhibited  excellent 
judgment. 

Custer  was  a  favorite  in  the  regular  army  after  the 
war,  and  his  death  —  in  the  Custer  massacre  in  1876  — 
was  mourned  by  soldiers  and  civilians  throughout  the 
United  States. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

Sheridan  s  Raid —  Turning  Out  Lively — Crossing  the  North 
Anna  —  Massa  Linkuni  s  Sojcrs —  The  Tables  Turned —  The 
Name  of  Mother  —  A  Yankee 's  Benediction  —  Pushing  On 
From  Beaver  Dam  — "  The  Kingdom  Comui"  —  The  Grave 
of  Massa  Tom  —  Foraging  on  the  Enemy  —  The  Old  Planter 
and  the  Vandal  Horde  —  Yankees  Without  Horns. 

URN  out.  men!  " 
^4  "  Turn  out,  lively  !  " 

"  Saddle  up  — mount  at  will  !  " 
We  turned  out  lively  enough.     The 
rebels  were  shelling  our  bivouac  on  the 
banks   of    the   North   Anna    River.      It 
was  just  at  daylight.     Our  dreams  of  home  were  inter- 
rupted   by    the    "  pinging "    of    bullets,  and    the    more 
distressing  sounds  of  missiles  of  larger  caliber. 
"  Look  out  there !  " 
"  What's  that  ?  " 

"  Only  a  cannon  ball,  but  it's  too  late  to  dodge  now 
—  it  has  gone  by." 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  Get  into  your  saddles,  boys  —  never  mind  your 
haversacks  —  be  sure  your  ammunition  is  all  right.  As 
fast  as  you're  saddled  up,  mount  and  ride  over  there 
where  the  major  is  forming  the  regiment." 

The  Johnnies  had  nearly  cheated  us  out  of  our  sup- 
pers Monday  night,  as  they  did  not  cease  firing  on  our 
pickets  till  after  ten  o'clock.  And  now  they  evinced  a 
disposition  to  spoil  our  breakfast.  In  this  they  suc- 
ceeded, but  some  of  them  were  severely  punished.  Sol- 
diers are  inclined  to  be  ugly  when  attacked  about  meal 
time,  and  Fitzhugh  Lee's  cavalrymen  were  given  a 
red-hot  reception  when  they  pitched  into  our  boys  be- 
fore breakfast. 

One  of  our  boys  got  his  saddle  on  with  the  pommel 
to  the  rear  —  he  must  have  stood  on  the  off  side  of  his 
horse  to  buckle  the  saddle  girth.  After  he  mounted 
his  horse  he  could  not  get  his  feet  into  the  stirrups  as 
they  were  "  hind  side  afore." 

"  Halloo,  there!  what  are  you  facing  the  wrong  way 
for?" 

"  I'm  all  right ;  it's  a  new  wrinkle,  don't  you  see  ?  I 
can  about  face  in  the  saddle  and  load  and  fire  on  the 
Johnnies  while  my  horse  keeps  going  on.  I  saddled 
up  this  way  on  purpose." 

During  the  night  Fitzhugh  Lee  had  posted  a  battery 
so  that  he  could  make  it  hot  for  us  when  we  came  to 
cross  the  river.     And  very  hot  it  was  for  an  hour  or  so. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

The  shot  and  shell  came  tearing  through  the  bushes 
skirting  the  bank.  A  regiment  was  deployed  to  the 
rear  to  hold  the  rebels  in  check  while  the  Federal 
troopers  were  crossing.  The  Confederates  were  mad  — 
fighting  mad.  The)'  understood  that  if  Sheridan  kept 
pushing  on  without  halting  his  main  column  to  give 
battle  to  the  rebels  in  the  rear,  the  Union  cavalry  could 
ride  straight  into  Richmond.  This  was  what  caused 
Stuart  to  draw  off  the  larger  part  of  his  command  from 
the  line  of  the  North  Anna  to  get  in  between  Sheridan 
and  the  rebel  capital,  first  making  a  feint  on  the  south 
bank  as  if  to  attack  Merritt's  division  in  the  morning. 
We  succeeded  in  getting  over  the  river  without  great 
loss,  as  the  first  division  covered  our  crossing,  and  our 
flying  artillery  did  splendid  work  in  silencing  the  rebel 
battery  that  gave  us  the  most  trouble,  and  then  sending 
cannon  balls  among  the  Johnnies  who  were  peppering 
us  at  close  range. 

When  we  reached  Beaver  Dam  Station  —  or  the 
ruins  of  what  had  been  the  station  the  day  before  —  we 
found  that  Custer's  brigade  had  demonstrated  the 
ability  of  the  Yankee  troopers  to  smash  things. 

"  Golly,  massa!  "  exclaimed  a  plantation  hand,  who 
had  witnessed  the  capture  and  destruction  of  the  station, 
"  dem  sojers  from  Massa  Linkum's  army  dun  knock  de 
bottum  out'n  de  las  fing  roun  heah  — shuah's  yo  born. 
Whar's  yo  all  gwine  ?  " 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  Richmond,  Uncle." 

"  'Pears  like  yo'  mean  it,  shuah  nuff,  dis  time. 
Reckon  yo'll  get  dar  if  all  Massa  Lee's  sojers  am  as 
skeery  ob  de  Yanks  as  de  crowd  dat  was  heah  when  yo' 
all  com'  gallopin'  cross  de  bridge  las  night.  Whew  ! 
how  dem  rebels  did  run.  Spec  dey's  close  to  Richmond 
by  dis  time,  if  dey  not  slack  up  some  'fore  now." 

The  old  darky  was  right.  Custer  had  knocked  the 
bottom  out  of  everything  around  the  station,  making  a 
total  wreck.  The  ruins  were  still  burning,  and  our  boys 
were  particular  that  the  destruction  should  be  complete. 

The  mortification  of  the  rebel  prisoners  was  some- 
thing ludicrous.  Only  a  few  hours  before  they  had  been 
guarding  a  detachment  of  Yankees  captured  in  the 
Wilderness.  They  had  reached  Beaver  Dam  Station, 
where  they  had  halted  for  the  night.  The  prisoners 
had  been  assured  that  their  chances  of  spending  a  year 
or  so  in  Libby  prison  were  of  the  best.  But  while  the 
Confederates  were  boasting  of  their  ability  to  whip 
Grant's  army  three  to  one,  Custer's  troopers  dashed 
down  on  the  station,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  fire-eat- 
ing F.  F.  V.'s  were  ready  to  throw  up  both  hands  and 
surrender.  Some  of  the  Union  boys  who  had  been  re- 
leased buckled  on  C.  S.  A.  belts  and  cartridge  boxes, 
and  stood  guard  over  the  crest-fallen  gray  backs. 

An  infantry  corporal  of  a  Pennsylvania  regiment, 
had  been  forced  to   give  up  all  his  personal  effects  to 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

one  of  the  rebel  guards  when  leaving  the  Wilderness. 
The  corporal  had  been  "  well  fixed,"  as  the  boys  called 
it  when  a  comrade  had  money,  a  watch,  etc.  After  the 
tables  had  been  turned  on  the  Johnnies  the  corpora], 
having  taken  into  custody  the  man  who  had  robbed  him, 
at  once  singled  him  out,  and  imitating  the  voice  of  the 
Johnnie,  said  : 

"  That's  a  fine  ring  on  your  finger  —  think  it  would 
fit  me  ?     Hand  it  over." 

The  prisoner  surrendered  the  ring,  saying: 
"  You've  got  the  drop  on  me  this  time,  Yank." 
"Mighty   fine    watch    you    carry  —  you'll    have    no 
chance  to  keep   it  in  prison  where  you're  going.     I'll 
take  charge  of  it  for  you." 

The  watch  was  handed  over. 

"Just  go  down  in  your  pocket  and  see  how  many 
greenbacks  you  can  find  —  you  can't  spend  them  in 
prison." 

A  pocket-book  with  quite  a  sum  of  money  was 
given  up. 

"  Let  me  see  !  They  won't  allow  you  to  smoke  a 
meerschaum  pipe  in  prison  ;  so  I'll  save  that  for  you  till 
you  get  out.  I'll  guarantee  it  will  be  well  colored." 
The  pipe  was  returned  to  its  owner. 
'•  Now,  that  half-pound  plug  of  tobacco,  please.  You 
may  bite  off  one  more  chaw,  as  it  will  probably  be  the 
last  you'll  get  right  away." 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

The  rebel  obeyed  orders. 

"  As  you  will  have  no  tramping  to  do  after  you  get 
to  the  prison,  and  I'm  liable  to  be  on  the  go  most  of 
the  time,  we'd  better  swap  shoes,  as  mine  are  nearly 
worn  out." 

The  exchange  was  made. 

"  That  canteen  !  " 

Handed  over. 

"  Haversack  !  " 

Surrendered. 

"  Fine  tooth  comb  !  " 

"  I  shall  miss  that." 

"  Suspenders !  " 

Handed  over. 

"  Jack-knife !  " 

"  Here  it  is." 

"Shirt  —  no,  never  mind  the  shirt.  I  haven't  got 
yours  to  return  in  place  of  it,  for  it  was  so  thick  with 
graybacks  when  you  took  it  off  to  put  on  mine,  that  it 
was  run  away  with.  I've  no  doubt  my  shirt  that 
you've  got  on  is  in  the  same  fix  now,  so  keep  it,  Johnnie. 
I  don't  want  to  be  too  hard  on  a  stranger.  You  may 
also  keep  my  drawers  and  stockings,  as  I  can  get  a  sup- 
ply from  some  of  my  friends  in  the  cavalry.  I  see 
you've  got  a  ring  that  you  didn't  take  from  me.  Does 
it  belong  to  one  of  our  boys  ?  " 

"  No,  Yank  ;  it's  mine.     It  was  my  mother's.     She's 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

dead  —  it's  all  I  have  left  that  was  hers.  But  it's  yours 
now,  as  I'm  your  prisoner.  Take  it,  Yank.  It's  hard 
to  give  it  up." 

"  I  know  it  is." 

"  Do  you  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  the  ring  you  took  from  me  was  my  mother's, 
Johnnie.  She's  dead — no,  I  can't  take  your  mother's 
ring  —  keep  it." 

"  I  took  yours,  but  you  didn't  tell  me  it  was  your 
mother's." 

"  No ;  for  I  didn't  believe  it  would  make  any 
difference." 

"  It  would  have  made  a  difference,  Yank  —  sure's 
you're  born,  it  would." 

There  was  a  grasp  of  hands  as  the  tears  ran  down 
the  faces  of  the  corporal  and  his  prisoner.  A  tender 
chord  had  been  struck  in  the  heart  of  each.  They  had 
been  foes  a  few  minutes  before.  They  were  broth- 
ers now. 

Each  had  fought  for  a  cause,  and  would  go  on 
fighting  as  before.  They  must  continue  to  be  enemies 
on  the  field  of  battle  till  the  great  questions  at  issue 
were  settled  by  the  sword.  But  all  this  was  forgotten 
as  they  spoke  of  "  mother." 

The  heart  beneath  the  blue  and  the  heart  under 
the  gray  beat  in  unison.  Each  felt  the  blessed  in- 
fluence awakened  by  the  utterance  of  that  magic  word 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 


"  mother,"  which  is  so  beautifully  expressed  by  Fanny 
J.  Crosby: 

"  The  light,  the  spell-word  of  the  heart, 

Our  guiding  star  in  weal  or  woe. 
Our  talisman  —  our  earthly  chart  — 

That  sweetest  name  that  earth  can  know. 

"We  breathed  it  first  with  lisping  tongue 

When  cradled  in  her  arms  we  lay; 
Fond  memories  round  that  name  are  hung 

That  will  not,  cannot  pass  away. 

"  We  breathed  it  then,  we  breathe  it  still, 

More  dear  than  sister,  friend  or  brother, 
The  gentle  power,  the  magic  thrill 

Awakened  at  the  name  of  Mother." 

"  Johnnie  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Yank." 

"  Take  this  pipe  and  tobacco.     You'll  need  them." 

"  Thank  you." 

"  Here's  my  pocket-book." 

"  But  you'll  need  the  money  ?  " 

"  Not  so  much  as  you  will.     Take  it,  I  say." 

"  All  right,  if  you  insist  on  it." 

'And  this  fine  tooth  comb  —  you'll  need  that  also." 

"  Yes,  I  need  it  now." 

"  Here's  my  jack-knife;  it'll  come  handy." 

"  It  will." 

"  Now  take  my  canteen  and  haversack  —  no,  don't 
refuse ;  I  can  get  more.  I'll  see  them  filled  before  we 
part." 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 


"  Thank  you,  Yank  —  God  bless  you  !  " 

"  God  bless  you,  Johnnie  !  " 

And  all  who  stood  by  said,  "  Amen." 

So  mote  it  be. 

Leaving  Beaver  Dam  Station  in  ruins,  Sheridan's 
cavalry  corps  pushed  on  toward  the  rebel  capital  early 
on  the  morning  of  Tuesday,  May  10. 

Not  far  from  Beaver  Dam  we  rode  by  a  Virginia 
farmhouse.  It  was  a  one-story  building,  with  chimneys 
on  the  outside  and  an  "  entry "  running  through  the 
center.  Two  or  three  plantation  hands  stood  near  the 
fence,  grinning  and  shouting  : 

"  Bress  de  Lawd  !  " 

"  Hyar    cum    Massa     Linkum's    sojers  —  bress    de 

Lawd  !  O,  Glory  !  " 

"  Are  you  glad  to  see  us,  Uncle  ?  " 

"  Yes,  massa,  'deed  I  is." 

"  Where's  the  '  massa  '  ?  " 

"  He  run  and  gune.      Must  be  de  king-dom  com-in'." 

The  old  darky  had  struck  the  keynote  of  one  of  the 
ditties  that  were  immensely  popular  in  the  Union  army. 
The  boys  took  up  the  song.  They  made  it  ring  as  they 
rode  along : 


"  Say,  dar-keys,  hab  you  seen  de  mas-sa, 
Wid  de  muff-stash  on  his  face, 

Go  long  de  road  some  time  dis  morn-in', 
Like  he  gwine  to  leab  de  place  ? 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

He  seen  a  smoke,  way  up  de  rib-ber, 

Where  de  Link-urn  gum-boats  lay; 
He  took  his  hat,  an'  lef  berry  sud-den, 

An'  I  'spec  he's  run  away  ! 

Chorus  :     "  De  mas-sa  run  ?     ha  !   ha  ! 
De  dar-keys  stay  ?  ho  !  ho  ! 
It  nius'  be  now  de  king-dom  com-in\ 
An'  de  year  ob  Ju-bi  lo  !  " 

At  another  farmhouse  we  found  a  new-made  grave 
in  the  dooryard.  It  was  just  inside  the  gate,  and  to  the 
right  of  the  walk  leading  up  to  the  porch.  The  earth 
heaped  over  the  grave  was  still  moist,  which  showed 
that  it  had  been  filled  in  during  the  morning.  A  spade 
with  the  letters  "  C.  S.  A."  burned  in  the  handle,  lay  be- 
side the  mound.  At  one  of  the  windows  of  the  farm- 
house we  saw  the  faces  of  two  or  three  young  ladies. 
They  had  been  weeping,  but  it  seemed  as  if  they  were 
holding  back  their  tears  till  the  Yankees  should  get  out 
of  sight.  We  concluded  that  the  grave  in  the  yard  was 
that  of  their  brother.  The  eyes  of  many  of  Sheridan's 
raiders  filled  with  tears  as  they  came  to  understand  the 
situation,  and  their  minds  went  back  to  their  own  homes 
and  the  dear  ones  in  the  North.  Mother,  sister,  sweet- 
heart—  in  a  few  days  they  might  be  weeping  over  the 
news  of  the  death  of  their  soldier  boy.  Every  voice 
was  hushed.  With  uncovered  heads  the  troopers  rode 
by.  Their  hearts  were  moved  with  sympathy  for  the 
distressed  household. 

A   staff  officer  inquired  of  an   old    negro  who  was 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

drawing  water  for  the  soldiers  at  a  well  near  the 
house : 

"  Whose  grave  is  that,  Uncle  ?  " 

"  Young  Massa  Tom's,  sah." 

"  And  who  was  '  Massa  Tom  '  ?  " 

"  He  war  missus's  only  son." 

"  And  the  brother  of  the  young  ladies  at  the 
window  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  all  de  brudder  dey  had.  Ole  massa  he  war 
killed  at  Seben  Pines.  Den  young  Massa  Tom  cum 
home  for  a  time  to  look  after  de  plantation.  But  when 
de  news  cum  dat  Massa  Linkum's  army  had  cross  de 
Rapid  Ann,  young  massa  buckle  on  he  sode  an'  tell  de 
young  missuses  and  ole  missus  dat  he  obliged  to  go  to 
de  front.  He  only  lef  home  Thursday,  five  days  ago. 
He  war  in  de  Wilderness  and  war  sent  wid  Yankee 
prizners  to  de  station  which  you  all's  sojers  burn  up  las' 
night.  He  cum  home  to  supper  in  de  early  ebenin,  an' 
den  went  back  to  de  station.  He  said  dey  spected  to 
start  for  Richmond  'fore  sun-up  dis  mornin'.  But  de 
Yankees  sweep  down  on  de  camp,  an'  soon  de  news 
cum  dat  Massa  Tom  been  kill.  A  party  of  Massa  Lee's 
sojers  brought  young  massa's  body  home,  an'  bright  an' 
early  dis  mornin'  we  laid  him  away  in  de  groun'.  De 
sojers  say :  '  Better  bury  him  'fore  de  Yankees  cum 
long,'  and  ole  missus  say  :  '  Yes  ;  dey  shall  nebber  glory 
ober  my   son's   dead    body.'      So   Massa  Tom   war  laid 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

away.  It  did  seem  so  cruel  like  to  jest  'rap  a  blanket 
roun'  him  an'  put  him  in  de  groud' ;  but  it  won't  make 
a  heep  ob  diff'nce,  I  reckon,  when  de  resurreckshun  day 
shall  cum,  for  de  good  Lawd  will  know  his  chil'ren. 

"  Poor  Massa  Tom  —  he's  free.  Ole  missus  say  she 
'spec  I'll  run  off  wid  de  Yankees  now  ;  but,  massa,  ole 
Ned's  gwine  to  stay  by  an'  help  ole  missus  all  he  can, 
for  de  time'll  soon  cum  when  dis  poor  ole  slave  will  be 
free !  For  whom  de  Lawd  make  free,  he  be  free 
'ndeed." 

As  we  rode  away  ole  Uncle  Ned  was  singing: 


"  Dar'll  be  no  sor-row  dar, 
Dar'll  be  no  sor-row  dar, 
In  heb-un  a-buv, 
Whar  all  is  luv  — 
Dar'll  be  no  sor-row  dar" 


The  enemy  did  not  molest  us  during  the  march 
Tuesday.  They  had  received  severe  punishment  in  the 
early  morning,  and  when  the  three  divisions  of  the 
cavalry  corps  had  secured  a  position  on  the  south  bank 
of  the  North  Anna,  Stuart  concluded  that  it  was  a  waste 
of  time  —  to  say  nothing  of  the  danger  —  to  attack 
Sheridan  in  the  vicinity  of  Beaver  Dam.  At  any  rate, 
they  left  us  to  ourselves  a  good  part  of  the  day. 

And  what  a  picnic  we  enjoyed  !  Foraging  parties 
were  sent  out  in  all  directions,  and  they  returned  with 
an  abundance  of  corn  for  our  horses.     The  corn  was  in 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

the  ear,  and  we  shelled  it  for  our  chargers.  Now  and 
then  a  trooper  who  had  been  out  on  the  flank  would 
come  in  with  a  supply  of  eggs  and  butter,  with  a  chicken 
or  two  hanging  on  his  saddle.  All  such  provender  was 
classed  as  "  forage,"  and  was  confiscated  by  the  raiders. 
It  was  delicate  business,  however,  and  I  do  not  believe 
that  one  out  of  twenty  of  Sheridan's  troopers  took  any- 
thing from  the  plantations  along  the  route  that  was  not 
needed  by  the  soldiers. 

I  would  not  be  understood  as  saying  that  the  boys 
did  not  confiscate  things  that  were  not  included  in  the 
Government  ration.  Not  at  all.  They  relished  extra 
dishes  —  such  as  ham  and  eggs,  butter  for  their  flap- 
jacks, and  milk  for  their  coffee,  and  wherever  they  found 
supplies  of  this  kind  they  foraged  them.  But  the 
Yankees  showed  a  good  deal  of  discrimination.  When 
they  found  a  dyed-in-the-wool  rebel  who  had  a  goodly 
store  of  provisions,  they  confiscated  what  they  needed, 
but  in  cases  where  the  supply  was  scant  and  the  farm 
was  worked  by  the  women  and  darkies,  the  boys  ad- 
monished one  another  to  go  slow,  and  only  a  small  per- 
centage of  the  crop  was  taken  into  camp. 

A  foraging  party  went  out  to  a  plantation  about  a 
mile  from  the  road  on  which  our  column  was  moving. 
We  saw  the  planter's  house  on  a  gentle  rise  of  ground, 
surrounded  by  magnificent  shade  trees.  Everything 
about  the  place  indicated  that  the  proprietor  belonged 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

to  the  F.  F.  V.'s.  As  we  rode  up  the  broad  avenue 
leading  from  the  front  gate  to  the  residence,  the  ser- 
geant in  charge  of  the  party  said :  "  Boys,  we've  struck 
it  rich.     There  must  be  something  good  to  eat  here." 

Seated  in  an  armchair  on  the  broad  piazza  was  the 
"  lord  of  the  manor,"  his  eyes  fairly  snapping  with  the 
hatred  he  could  not  conceal  for  the  visitors.     He  was 
full  threescore  years  and    ten.     His    long    white    hair 
hung  down  upon  his  shoulders,  and  served  to  heighten 
the  color  in  his  cheeks  —  and  the  beet  red  of  his  nose. 
The  planter  arose  at  our  approach,  and  demanded  : 
"  To  what  am  I  indebted  for  this  visit  ?  " 
"  Firing  on  the  old  flag  at  Fort  Sumter,  primarily," 
replied    the    sergeant,  who    seemed    to    enjoy    the    old 
Virginian's  hostile  attitude. 

"  But,  sir,  I  did  not  fire  on  Sumter!  " 
"  No?  Then  you're  a  Union  man,  I  take  it  ?  " 
"  No,  sir!  I'm  a  Virginian,  loyal  to  my  State  and 
to  the  Confederacy.  If  I  were  able  to  bears  arms  I 
should  be  in  Lee's  army  to-day,  fighting  the  vandal 
horde  that  has  invaded  the  sacred  soil.  Sir,  we  are 
enemies  !  " 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  you  say  that.  If  you  were  a 
Union  man  you  could  get  pay  for  the  forage  we  were 
sent  to  secure.  But  as  you  are  a  sworn  enemy  of  the 
United  States  of  America  we  will  be  obliged  to  con- 
fiscate some  of  your  corn  and  other  supplies." 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  I  knew  you  were  a  band  of  robbers  when  you  rode 
through  my  gate.  .  The  Northern  mudsills  make  war  on 
private  citizens  and  rob  them  by  force  of  arms." 

"  It's  the  fortunes  of  war." 

"  You  may  call  it  war.  We  of  the  South  call  it  the 
unholy  attempt  to  subjugate  freemen  —  to  destroy  the 
sovereignty  of  the  States.  But  Abe  Lincoln  with  all 
his  vandal  horde  will  never  conquer  the  South  !  " 

'•  Well,  stick  to  your  State's  rights,  old  man  ;  but  in 
the  meantime  we  must  have  corn  for  our  horses  to 
brace  them  up  so's  we  can  ride  into  Richmond  and 
hang  old  Jeff  Davis  "  — 

"  Jeff  Davis  !  He's  a  saint,  sir,  when  compared  with 
your  negrodoving  railsplitter  in  the  White  House  ! " 

"All  right;  I  don't  propose  to  quarrel  with  you. 
Please  show  us  where  the  corn  can  be  found." 

"  Never,  sir !  If  you  will  plunder  my  plantation  I 
am  powerless  to  defend  myself;  but  I'll  not  help  you 
to  anything." 

"Then  we'll  prospect  on  our  own  hook.  Perhaps 
we  can  find  what  we  want." 

"  I  protest  in  the  name  of  the  sovereign  rights  of  a 
Virginian." 

"  Uncle  Sam's  a  bigger  man  than  'ole  Virginny,'" 
replied  the  sergeant. 

We  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  the  corn  crib  and 
the  old   Virginian's  commissary  department.     A   young 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

darky  "  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag  "  on  his  master,  and 
we  soon  had  our  horses  loaded  with  forage.  We  had 
struck  it  rich,  indeed,  for  the  plantation  yielded  "  corn, 
wine  and  oil"  in  abundance.  There  was  food  for  man 
and  beast.  A  large  number  of  hams,  cured  on  the 
plantation,  sides  and  sides  of  bacon,  and  a  goodly  store 
of  "  groceries  "  were  among  the  "  forage  "  we  confis- 
cated. But  we  did  not  strip  the  planter  of  all  his  pro- 
visions ;  enough  was  left  to  run  him  for  several  months. 

"  I'll  give  you  a  receipt  for  this  forage,"  said  the 
sergeant,  as  we  were  about  to  leave. 

"  What  would  the  receipt  of  a  robber  be  good  for  ?  " 
exclaimed  the  old  planter. 

"  You  can  present  it  to  the  Government  when  the 
war's  over  and  get  pay  for  the  forage." 

"  Do  you  want  to  add  further  insult  to  the  injury 
you  have  done  me  ?  I  scorn  you  and  your  Government. 
You  can  never  whip  the  South,  sir,  never,  and  under 
no  consideration  would  I  disgrace  myself  by  taking  pay 
for  stores  used  by  the  enemies  of  the  Confederacy. 
Leave  my  plantation.  Go  back  to  your  general  and 
tell  him  that  my  prayer  is  that  he  and  his  followers  will 
get  their  just  deserts  —  that  they  will  all  be  hanged." 

The  enraged  planter  walked  back  and  forth  on  the 
piazza,  and  shot  defiant  glances  at  us  as  we  rode  away 
with  our  plunder.  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  would  have 
"  bushwhacked  "  us  if  there  had  been  an  opportunity. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

A  couple  of  miles  south  of  the  big  plantation  we 
came  to  a  farmhouse  on  a  cross  road.  We  stopped  at 
the  well  to  fill  our  canteens,  and  one  of  the  boys  ex- 
plored the  premises  to  see  what  he  could  find.  He 
came  back  with  the  report  that  the  house  was  occupied 
by  a  widow  with  a  large  family  of  children. 

"  There  don't  seem  to  be  anything  to  eat  on  this 
farm,"  the  trooper  remarked. 

"  I'll  see  about  it,"  said  the  sergeant,  as  he  rode  up 
to  the  porch.     "  Halloo,  inside  there  !  " 

A  middle-aged  woman  came  out  into  the  entry  and 
advanced  timidly  toward  the  Yankee. 

"  We're  out  after  forage,"  the  sergeant  said.  "  Have 
you  any  corn  around  here  ?  " 

"  We  have  nothing  but  the  crap  that's  gro'in'.  We 
had  some  provisions  until  a  few  clays  ago  a  lot  of  sol- 
diers came  along  and  took  all  our  corn  and  bacon. 
We've  got  a  mighty  little  meal  and  a  trifle  of  bacon 
left." 

"  I  didn't  know  that  any  of  our  men  had  been 
through  here  lately." 

"  They  were  not  Yankees ;  they  were  our  own  sol- 
diers. They  said  they  were  hungry,  and  when  they 
begun  to  eat  it  seemed  like  they  would  never  quit. 
They  fairly  ate  us  most  out  of  house  and  home.  It's 
mighty  sorry  times  with  us.  I  don't  know  what  we'll 
do  to  get  alono-  till  harvest." 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  Where's  your  husband  ?  " 

"  Done  killed  in  the  wah." 

"  Have  you  no  sons  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  two  fighting  under  General  Lee. 

"  And  you're  short  of  provisions?  " 

"  Very  short  indeed." 

"  Boys,  leave  a  couple  of  hams,  a  bag  of  meal  and 
some  bacon  with  this  lady." 

The  boys  gladly  complied  with  the  instructions,  and 
they  also  went  down  in  their  haversacks  and  contributed 
quite  a  number  of  rations  of  coffee  and  sugar. 

"  Oh  !  that's  real  coffee,"  exclaimed  the  oldest  of 
the  children,  a  girl  of  about  twelve  years. 

"  I  expected  you  would  take  what  little  we  had  to 
eat,"  said  the  head  of  the  family,  as  the  tears  rolled 
down  her  face.  "  I  never  thought  the  Yankees  would 
be  so  kind  to  the  widow  of  a  Confederate.  The  Rich- 
mond papers  said  if  you  all  came  this  way  you  would 
destroy  everything ;  they  said  heaps  of  black  things 
about  you." 

"  Do  you  all  have  hams  on  your  saddles  and  sacks  of 
corn  to  carry  along  all  the  time  ?  "  ventured  the  young 
miss  who  had  listened  to  all  that  had  been  said. 

"  No,  no;  we  confiscated  these  back  at  the  big  plan- 
tation yonder." 

"Where  'bouts?"  inquired  the  widow. 

"At  that  fine  house  a  couple  of  miles  north." 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  Was  there  an  old  gentleman  there  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  he  gave  us  his  benediction  when  we  left,  by 
expressing  the  wish  that  we  would  all  come  to  the 
gallows." 

"  And  these  hams  and  other  things  came  from  his 
plantation  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"I  declare,  'vengeance  is  mine,  saith  the  Lord.' 
Yesterday  I  called  there  and  asked  the  colonel  —  they 
all  call  him  colonel — -to  help  me  along  by  letting  me 
have  a  little  meal  and  bacon.  I  promised  to  pay  him 
back  when  we  gather  our  crap,  by  and  by." 

"  He  assisted  you,  of  course  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed.  He  said  he  could  not  afford  to  dis- 
tribute his  provisions  among  other  people  who  had  no 
claims  on  him.  He  refused  to  let  me  have  a  pound  of 
meat,  or  a  quart  of  meal." 

"  He  knows  your  husband  was  killed  fighting  for 
the  Confederacy  —  and  that  you  have  two  sons  in 
Lee's   arm)"  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure  he  does  ;  he  urged  them  to  go  into  the 
army,  to  hurl  back  the  invaders  ;  but  he  now  says  I 
must  look  to  the  Government  at  Richmond  for  help. 
I'm  thankful  for  what  you  all  have  done  for  us.  It's  a 
right  smart  help.  But  I  believe  the  colonel  would  come 
down  here  and  take  the  provisions  away  from  us,  if  he 
knew  you  all  had  left  them  here." 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  Let's  go  back  and  take  what's  left  at  his  plantation 
and  burn  him  out,"  exclaimed  one  of  the  troopers. 

"  No ;  not  this  time,"  said  the  sergeant.  "  But  we 
shall  probably  come  this  way  again,  and  then  we  can  pay 
our  compliments  to  the  old  skinflint." 

"  Do  you  think  the  wah's  coming  to  an  end  soon  ?  " 
the  woman  asked  as  we  were  about  to  move  forward. 

"  I  hope  so,"  replied  the  sergeant.  "  I  think  this 
campaign  will  wind  it  up." 

"  Who's  going  to  whip  ?  " 

"  We  are." 

"  You'll  be  obliged  to  do  some  powerful  hard  fight- 
ing, I  reckon,  for  our  side  won't  give  up  so  long's  there's 
anything  to  eat  in  the  Confederacy.  But  if  we're  to  be 
overcome,  sure  enough,  I  hope  it  will  be  soon  —  before 
my  sons  are  killed.  Our  boys'll  die  game,  sure's  you're 
born." 

"  I  hope  your  sons  will  be  spared." 

"  I  trust  they  will.  They  believe  they  are  fighting 
for  a  just  cause.  They  are  Virginians,  and  they  have 
great  faith  in  Gen.  Lee.  They  will  follow  him  to  the 
end.  But  it's  a  cruel  wah.  Somebody  must  be  wrong ; 
both  sides  cannot  be  right.  I  don't  understand  it  thor- 
oughly, but  I  feel  that  somebody  has  made  a  terrible 
mistake." 

"  Ma,  the  Yankees  hasn't  got  horns,  has  they,  ma?  " 
exclaimed  one  of  the  children,  a  girl  about  five  years  old, 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 


and  who  was  gnawing  at  a  hard-tack  one  of  the  troopers 
had  given  her. 

"  No,  my  darling." 

And  the  Confederate  soldiers  widow  joined  in  the 
laugh  that  followed  this  juvenile  outbreak.  Good-bys 
were  said,  and  the  foraging  party  hastened  to  rejoin 
the  column. 


CHAPTER    X. 

Butler  s  Advance  on  the  South  Side  —  How  the  Massachusetts 
Major-General  Escaped  Hanging  —  Returning  to  Grant's 
Army  —  The  Fight  at  Howes 's  Shop  —  A  Dying  Confeder- 
ate's Last  Request  —  Holding  Cold  Harbor  at  all  Hazards  — 
Filling  the  Canteens  —  Running  into  the  Enemy. 


HERIDAN'S  weary  troopers  appreciated 
the  three-days'  rest  given  them  at  Haxall's 
Landing.  An  opportunity  was  afforded 
the  recruits  who  had  never  been  on  a 
raid  before  to  doctor  their  saddle  boils, 
and  rub  horse  liniment  on  the  contusions 
they  had  sustained  while  being  banged  around  on  the 
march  from  the  Wilderness  to  the  James. 

While  we  were  recuperating  in  camp,  the  army  of 
the  James  was  operating  against  Richmond.  A  courier 
came  in  from  Gen.  Kautz's  cavalry,  then  smashing- 
things  out  beyond  Petersburg,  bringing  encouraging 
news.  Butler  had  sailed  up  the  river  with  a  fleet  of 
mixed    vessels  —  that  may   not    be  a  strictly  nautical 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

phrase,  but  it  expresses  the  character  of  the  flotilla. 
Nearly  every  class  of  vessel,  from  the  latest  improved 
ironclad  down  to  the  slow-going  canal  boat,  ascended 
the  James  to  Bermuda  Hundred,  from  which  base 
"Butler  moved  his  troops  in  his  attack  on  the  rebel 
fortifications  at  Drewry's  Bluff. 

We  did  not  know,  at  the  time,  what  Butler  was 
trying  to  accomplish,  except  the  general  statement  that 
Grant  had  ordered  him  to  co-operate  with  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac  in  the  advance  on  Richmond.  The  intri- 
cate details  of  the  plan  were  altogether  too  perplexing 
for  worn-out  troopers  to  puzzle  their  brains  with.  An 
outline  of  what  had  taken  place  on  the  south  bank  of 
the  river  was  given  out,  and  as  I  remember  it,  the  day 
that  we  started  on  our  return  to  Grant's  army,  it  was 
generally  understood  that  Butler  had  Been  driven  back 
from  Drewry's  Bluff  into  his  breastworks  at  Bermuda 
Hundred,  although  we  did  not  hear  that  he  had  been 
"  bottled  up  "  till  several  weeks  later. 

I  did  not  know  at  that  time  that  Butler  had  been 
declared  an  outlaw  by  Jeff  Davis,  but  I  suppose  the 
commanding  general  of  the  army  of  the  James  was 
aware  of  the  fact.  Whether  the  same  had  any  influence 
on  Butler's  retreat  down  the  river  when  worsted  by 
Beauregard,  I  am  not  prepared  to  assert.  It  would  be 
a  serious  breach  of  discipline  for  one  of  the  few  surviv- 
ing privates  of  the  great  rebellion  to  intimate  that  the 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

Bay  State's  favorite  major-general  turned  his  back  on 
Richmond,  and  sought  the  security  of  breastworks, 
with  gunboat  supports,  to  escape  falling  into  the 
hands  of  the  Confederates.  And  yet  I  have  since  dis- 
covered that  had  Butler  been  captured,  he  would 
have  been  hanged  by  the  neck  until  he  was  dead, 
dead,  dead. 

Butler,  as  is  well  known,  had  given  the  Confederacy 
no  end  of  trouble  at  New  Orleans,  when  in  command 
down  there.  He  had  caused  the  rebels  to  understand 
that  the  assassination  of  Union  soldiers  must  be  atoned 
for  by  the  punishment  of  the  assassins. 

In  "  The  Rise  and  Fall  of  the  Confederate  Govern- 
ment," by  Jeff  Davis,  an  account  is  published  of  what 
the  rebel  president  declared  to  have  been  the  "  murder  " 
of  William  B.  Mumford,  a  "  non-combative  "  citizen  of 
New  Orleans,  by  Butler's  order.  Gen.  Lee  had  written 
to  Gen.  Halleck  about  it,  as  instructed  by  Davis,  and 
Halleck  refused  to  receive  the  letters,  because,  as  he  ex- 
pressed it,  they  were  of  an  insulting  character.  Davis 
continues  : 


"  It  appeared  that  the  silence  of  the  Government  of  the  United  States,  and  its 
maintenance  of  Butler  in  high  office  under  its  authority,  afforded  evidence  too 
conclusive  that  it  sanctioned  his  conduct,  and  was  determined  that  he  should 
remain  unpunished  for  these  crimes.  I  therefore  pronounced  and  declared  the 
said  Butler  a  felon,  deserving  capital  punishment,  and  ordered  that  he  be  no  longer 
considered  and  treated  as  a  public  enemy  of  the  Confederate  States,  but  as  an 
outlaw  and  common  enemy  of  mankind  ;  and  that,  in  the  event  of  his  capture,  the 
officer  in  command  should  cause  him  to  be  immediately  executed  by  hanging." 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

According  to  Gen.  G.  T.  Beauregard,  who  com- 
manded the  rebels  at  Drewry's  Bluff,  Gen.  Butler's  sal- 
vation from  summary  execution  was  due  to  the  failure 
of  the  Confederate  Gen.  Whiting,  to  carry  out  the 
instructions  given  him  by  Beauregard,  for  the  latter, 
in  an  article  in  "  Battles  and  Leaders  of  the  Civil 
War,"   says  : 

"  Nothing  would  have  prevented  Whiting  from  cap- 
turing the  entire  force  of  Gen.  Butler,  had  he  followed 
my  instructions.  .  .  We  could  and  should  have 
captured  Butler's  entire  army." 

I  do  not  know  but  Beauregard's  expectations  included 
the  capture  of  Sheridan's  cavalry  at  Haxall's,  and, 
possibly,  Grant's  army,  too  ;  but  the  modest  Confederate 
is  silent  on  this  point. 

I  beg  pardon  for  going  outside  the  lines  a  little  in 
speaking  of  Butler's  operations.  Whatever  may  have 
been  that  general's  failings  —  if  he  had  any  failings  — 
as  a  military  commander,  one  thing  the  survivors  of 
Sheridan's  cavalry  corps  will  never  forget :  he  fed  them 
when  they  were  hungry,  and  filled  their  haversacks  for 
the  march  to  rejoin  the  Army  of  the  Potomac. 

We  started  on  the  return  trip  Tuesday  evening, 
May  17.  I  would  have  volunteered  to  be  transferred 
to  the  navy,  had  there  been  a  chance  to  do  so.  My 
saddle  boils  were  all  ripe,  and  a  few  hours'  riding 
brought  matters  to  a  crisis.     But  I  became  hardened  to 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

it  later  on,  and  never  again  suffered  affliction  of  that 
character. 

Scouting  parties  were  pushed  to  the  front  to  feel  the 
way,  the  exact  location  of  Grant's  army  being  unknown 
to  us.  Our  horses  had  recovered  from  the  effects  of  the 
fatiguing  march,  and  the  troopers  were  in  good  spirits. 
The  "  new  hands "  began  to  feel  confidence  in  them- 
selves, and  as  they  had  not  shown  the  white  feather 
thus  far,  the  old  veterans  were  considerate  enough  to 
admit  that  the  four  new  companies  had  the  "  makings  of 
a  good  battalion." 

We  crossed  the  Chickahominy  at  Jones's  Bridge, 
and  camped  in  the  vicinity  of  Baltimore  crossroads 
Thursday  night.  From  this  place  our  division  and 
Wilson's  were  sent  to  explore  the  roads  around  Cold 
Harbor.  Our  movements  were  not  opposed  by  the 
Confederates,  and  we  rested  our  horses  on  what  proved 
to  be,  a  few  days  later,  one  of  the  bloodiest  battlefields 
of  the  campaign. 

At  the  old  tavern  at  Cold  Harbor  we  filled  our 
canteens  with  water,  the  tavern  being  dry  so  far  as 
liquor  was  concerned.  We  were  only  twelve  miles 
from  Richmond,  yet  the  rebels  were  willing  to  give  us 
full  swing  so  long  as  we  would  keep  away  from  their 
capital. 

While  the  second  and  third  divisions  were  scouting 
around  Cold  Harbor,  Custer  took  his  brigade  to  Hanover, 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

destroyed  Confederate  stores  at  that  station,  and  burned 
several  bridges. 

In  the  meantime,  Merritt's  men  had  repaired  the 
railroad  bridge  over  the  Pamunkey,  and  upon  our 
return  from  Cold  Harbor,  everything  was  in  readiness 
for  continuing  the  march  to  rejoin  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac.  Custer's  men  reported  that  Lee's  army 
was  intrenched  along  the  North  Anna,  and  that 
meant  that  Grant's  troops  were  on  the  opposite  side, 
facing  Lee. 

Tuesday,  May  24,  just  a  week  from  the  day  we  left 
the  James,  we  joined  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  near 
Chesterfield.  We  had  been  absent  sixteen  days.  Grant 
and  Meade  highly  commended  Little  Phil  upon  the 
success  of  his  daring  raid,  and  the  doughboys  admitted 
that  the  cavalry,  with  Sheridan  in  command,  was  able 
to  take  care  of  itself,  and  could  make  a  march  in  the 
enemy's  country  without  a  column  of  infantry  to  keep 
off  the  rebels.  The  cavalry  corps  lost  six  hundred  and 
twenty-five  men  and  half  as  many  horses  on  the  raid. 

The  first  and  second  divisions  of  Sheridan's  cavlary 
corps  led  the  advance  from  the  line  of  the  North  Anna, 
when  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  executed  another  left- 
flank  movement,  crossing  to  the  south  bank  of  the  river 
the  day  after  our  return  from  the  raid  around  Richmond. 
The  third  division,  commanded  by  Wilson,  was  detached 
from  the  corps,  and  sent  to  look  after  the  right  flank  of 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

Grant's  army.  Sheridan  accompanied  the  advance,  and 
he  was  instructed  to  put  out  and  feel  the  enemy. 

Gregg's  division  engaged  in  a  lively  brush  with  the 
rebels  at  a  place  called  Hawes's  Shop,  May  27.  The 
enemy  had  us  at  a  great  disadvantage,  being  posted 
behind  breastworks.  An  infantry  brigade  with  long 
toms  kept  the  minie  balls  pinging  around  our  ears, 
while  the  sharp  reports  of  carbines,  the  cheers  of  our 
boys  as  they  pushed  forward,  the  rebel  yell  and  the 
booming  of  field  pieces  gave  warning  to  the  troops  in 
our  rear  that  the  cavalry  was  at  it  again. 

We  ran  into  the  rebels  rather  unexpectedly,  although 
we  knew  that  they  were  close  at  hand.  Our  advance 
guard  was  fired  on  as  the  detachment  approached  a  belt 
of  timber  skirting  the  road.  In  a  few  minutes  our  whole 
division  was  under  fire,  and  the  Johnnies  stubbornly 
contested  every  inch  of  ground  which  they  occupied. 

While  we  were  closing  in  on  the  rebel  intrench- 
ments,  a  young  trooper  on  my  right  asked  me  if  I  had 
any  water.  I  reached  him  my  canteen.  Just  as  he 
raised  it  to  his  lips  a  bullet  from  a  rebel  musket  struck 
it,  knocking  it  out  of  the  trooper's  hand. 

"  That's  blasted  mean  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Pick  up  the  canteen,  maybe  the  water  hasn't  all 
run  out,"  I  shouted. 

"  It's  all  gone,"  he  said.  The  ball  had  passed  through, 
tearing;  a  big  hole  in  the  tin. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  Take  a  drink  from  my  canteen,"  said  another 
trooper,  who  had  witnessed  the  incident. 

"  Thank  you."  And  holding  the  canteen  up  above 
His  head,  the  thirsty  soldier  shouted :  "  Now,  you  miser- 
able gray  backs,  shoot  away;  spoil  this  canteen,  will 
you  ?  " 

Whiz!  thug  !  And  the  second  canteen  was  struck 
by  a  musket-ball  and  ruined. 

"  I  guess  I'm  not  as  thirsty  as  I  thought  I  was," 
remarked  the  young  cavalryman,  as  he  declined  the  offer 
of  another  canteen. 

A  sergeant  of  a  Pennsylvania  regiment  in  the  second 
brigade,  was  severely  wounded  in  the  leg.  Two  com- 
rades attempted  to  assist  him  back  behind  a  tree  to  the 
left  of  the  road.  The  wounded  non-commissioned 
officer  was  carried  on  a  piece  of  board,  which  the 
troopers  held  between  them,  and  supported  himself  by 
holding  on  to  their  shoulders. 

Just  as  they  were  passing  our  position  in  line,  a 
shell  struck  the  board,  and  stove  it  into  splinters.  The 
sergeant  was  thrown  on  one  side  of  the  road,  and  his 
two  comrades  on  the  other.  I  thought  they  were  dead, 
but  in  a  few  seconds  the  sergeant  raised  up  on  his 
elbow  and  called  out  : 

"  Jackson,  are  you  killed  ?  " 

"  No,  sir;   but  I'm  unconscious." 

"  Where's  Corbet  ?  " 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 


"  Here,  sir ;  but  I'm  unconscious,  too.  There's  no 
breath  left  in  me  body." 

Then  the  two  troopers  lifted  their  heads  and  looked 
cautiously  around.  They  had  escaped  serious  injury, 
but  the  sergeant's  other  leg  was  badly  shattered.  They 
picked  him  up  and  bore  him  to  the  rear. 

Gen.  Gregg  fought  his  division  well,  and  the  sur- 
vivors of  the  engagement  at  Hawes's  Shop  will  bear 
testimony  that  the  rebels  held  their  ground  bravely. 

We  pressed  forward  to  the  breastworks,  but  were 
unable  to  carry  the  line.  The  Confederates  poured 
volley  after  volley  into  our  ranks.  Still  the  troopers, 
with  averted  faces,  worked  their  way  to  the  front,  secur- 
ing a  position  and  holding  it  within  pistol  range  of  the 
enemy.     Boys  in  blue  and  boys  in  butternut  went  clown. 

The  regiment  on  our  right  made  a  sudden  dash, 
and  swept  back  the  Confederate  line.  But  our  boys 
were  unable  to  hold  the  advance  position.  The  Johnnies 
fired  upon  them  from  both  flanks,  and  back  they  came, 
slowly  and  with  their  faces  to  the  foe,  loading  and  firing 
as  they  retreated.  They  brought  in  a  score  or  more  of 
prisoners. 

"  Halloo,  Reb !  What  are  you  fellows  blocking  our 
road  for  ?  "  shouted  a  blue-clad  trooper  to  a  Confederate 
sergeant,  as  the  prisoners  were  hustled  to  the  rear. 

"  Who's  a-blocking  the  road,  Yank  ?  I'm  done. 
You  all  gobbled  me  in  a  squar  fight." 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  Where  do  you  hail  from  ?  " 

"  Ole  South  Carliney,  and  if  you'll  give  me  my 
parole,  I'll  go  down  thar  and  stay  till  the  wah's  over." 

We  were  having  a  lively  exchange  of  leaden  compli- 
ments, when  the  boys  in  charge  of  our  horses  — we  were 
fighting  on  foot  —  began  to  cheer,  and  we  knew  that 
help  was  at  hand.  In  a  few  minutes  we  saw  Gen. 
Custer,  at  the  head  of  his  Michigan  brigade,  coming  up 
the  road. 

Sheridan  had  sent  Custer  to  Gregg's  assistance  at 
the  request  of  the  latter,  who  had  informed  Sheridan 
that  he  could  drive  the  rebels  from  their  breastworks 
with  the  help  of  a  few  more  men.  Of  the  closing  up 
of  the  battle  Gen.  Gregg  says :  "  Soon  Custer  reported 
with  his  brigade.  This  he  dismounted  and  formed  on 
a  road  leading  to  the  front  and  through  the  center  of 
my  line.  In  column  of  platoons,  with  band  plavino-, 
he  advanced.  As  arranged,  when  the  head  of  his 
column  reached  my  line,  all  went  forward  with  a  tre- 
mendous yell,  and  the  contest  was  of  short  duration. 
We  went  right  over  the  rebels,  who  resisted  with 
courage  and  desperation  unsurpassed.  Our  success 
cost  the  Second  Division  two  hundred  and  fifty-six  men 
and  officers,  killed  and  wounded.  This  fight  has  always 
been  regarded  by  the  Second  Division  as  one  of  its 
severest." 

The  Confederates  left  us  in  possession  of  the  field 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

and  the  dead  and  wounded.  Inside  the  earthworks,  a 
little  to  the  left  of  the  road,  a  young  rebel  lay  dying. 
A  bullet  had  struck  him  in  the  breast,  and  his  life's 
blood  was  flowing  from  the  wound  and  from  his  mouth. 
He  was  not  more  than  seventeen  years  old.  The  dead 
and  dying  were  thick  around  the  boy,  showing  that  he 
had  fallen  where  the  fight  was  the  hottest. 

"  I  can't  do  anything  for  you,  my  son,"  said  a  gray- 
haired  Federal  surgeon,  who  had  examined  his  wound. 

"Am  I  dying,  Doctor?  " 

"  Yes,  my  son ;  the  wound  is  fatal." 

"  Can  my  head  be  raised  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  Here,  boys  !  bring  an  overcoat  or  a 
blanket." 

The  old  doctor's  voice  was  tremulous  and  his  eyes 
were  moist  with  tears.  A  dozen  blue  overcoats  were 
offered,  but  only  one  was  needed.  This  the  surgeon 
folded  so  as  to  make  a  pillow  for  the  wounded  Con- 
federate. Tenderly  the  doctor  raised  the  boy's  head 
and  placed  it  on  the  overcoat.  As  he  did  so  the  blood 
flowed  afresh  from  the  wound  in  the  breast. 

"  Doctor  —  picture  —  mother  —  pocket  —  let  me 
see  it." 

"  Yes,  my  son." 

The  surgeon  took  from  the  boy's  butternut  jacket  a 
picture  of  a  sweet-faced  woman,  and  held  it  before  the 
dying  soldier's  eyes. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  Closer,  Doctor." 

The  boy  had  attempted  to  take  the  picture  in  his 
hand,  but  his  strength  was  gone  —  he  could  not  use  his 
arms.  The  doctor  held  the  picture  against  the  lips  of 
the  youth.  It  was  stained  with  blood  when  taken  away, 
but  there  was  a  smile  on  the  face  of  the  boy. 

"  Doctor,"  he  said  faintly,  "  tell  mother  I  died  like 
a  soldier  —  will  you  write  to  her?  " 

"  Yes." 

The  old  doctor's  tears  were  flowing  freely  now. 
And  so  were  the  tears  of  fifteen  or  twenty  Union 
troopers  who  had  gathered  around  the  dying  boy. 

"Yes,  I'll  write  —  what's  the  address,  my  son?  " 

"  Mother's  name  is  "  — 

The  voice  sank  to  a  whisper,  and  the  Federal 
surgeon  placed  his  ear  close  to  the  lad's  mouth. 

"  Is  what?  " 

"  Mother — O,  Doctor !  —  meet  —  heaven  —  good-by ! " 

He  was  dead. 

"  He  was  so  much  like  my  boy  who  was  killed  at 
Antietam,"  said  the  surgeon,  as  he  folded  the  dead 
Confederate's  hands  over  the  mother's  picture. 

Search  was  made  for  a  letter  or  writing  that  would 
identify  the  boy  or  reveal  his  mother's  address.  Only 
one  letter  was  found  in  his  pocket.  There  was  no 
envelope  ;  no  postmark.  It  began,  "  My  darling  soldier 
boy."  and  breathed  the  mother's  anxiety  for  the  welfare 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

of  her  son,  and  the  prayer  that  he  would  be  spared  to 
return  and  make  glad  that  mother's  heart.  •  And  the 
signature  —  "  Your  fond  and  affectionate  mother." 
Nothing  more.  There  was  no  time  for  ceremony ; 
barely  time  to  bury  the  dead.  The  boy's  body  was 
wrapped  in  a  U.  S.  blanket  and  put  in  a  trench  hastily 
dug  and  hastily  filled. 

The  advance  on  Cold  Harbor  was  led  by  the  First 
and  Second  Divisions  of  the  cavalry  corps  under  Sheri- 
dan. The  Third  Division  under  Wilson  had  been  sent 
out  on  the  right  flank  to  tear  up  the  Virginia  Central 
railroad.  That  duty  was  performed,  and  at  the  same 
time  Wilson's  division  engaged  the  Georgia  cavalry 
under  Gen.  P.  B.  M.  Young,  at  Hanover  Court  House. 
The  Confederates  were  driven  out.  In  the  meantime 
we  were  having  our  hands  full  at  Cold  Harbor,  toward 
which  place  we  marched  all  night,  after  the  fight  at 
Hawes's  Shop.  Sheridan  had  pushed  forward  Torbert's 
division,  and  a  severe  fight  was  had  with  the  enemy,  re- 
sulting in  the  occupancy  of  Cold  Harbor  and  the 
important  cross-roads  by  the  First  Division.  While 
Torbert's  men  were  fighting  at  Cold  Harbor,  our 
division  guarded  the  road  near  Old  Church.  An  order 
came  from  Sheridan  for  Gregg  to  send  re-enforcements, 
to  Torbert,  and  Davies's  brigade  was  ordered  to  the 
front.  We  arrived  too  late  to  help  the  First  Division 
drive  out  the  rebels,  but  we  were  in  time  to  assist  in 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

holding  Cold  Harbor  the  next  day  till  the  infantry  came 
to  our  relief. 

Sheridan  had  concluded  that  he  could  not  hold  Cold 
Harbor  without  infantry  support,  and  the  doughboys 
were  eight  or  ten  miles  away.  Orders  were  given  to 
fall  back  to  Old  Church  during  the  night  of  May  31. 
The  withdrawal  was  made  in  good  order,  and  we  were 
congratulating  ourselves  on  escaping  from  the  trap  the 
rebel  infantry  was  preparing  to  spring  upon  us  at  day- 
break, when  we  received  orders  to  face  about  and  hold 
Cold  Harbor  "  at  all  hazards."  Back  we  went,  and 
preparations  were  made  for  resisting  the  attack  of  the 
enemy,  which  we  felt  sure  would  be  made  at  daylight. 
If  the  rebels  had  discovered  that  we  had  moved  out  of 
the  breastworks  in  their  front,  and  had  advanced  and 
occupied  the  line,  they  could  have  held  Cold  Harbor 
against  our  four  brigades,  as  the  Confederate  cavalry 
was  supported  by  Hoke's  and  Kershaw's  infantry. 

Our  position  at  Cold  Harbor  was  anything  but 
satisfactory,  as  we  "  turned  doughboys  "  and  began  to 
dig  for  our  lives,  the  necessity  of  entrenching  our  line 
being  well  understood,  as  we  were  to  fight  on  foot. 
Sheridan  says  in  his  Memoirs,  speaking  of  the  return 
to  Cold  Harbor :  "  We  now  found  that  the  temporary 
breastworks  of  rails  and  logs  which  the  Confederates 
had  built  were  of  incalculable  benefit  to  us  in  furnishing 
material  with  which  to  establish  a  line  of  defense,  they 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

being  made  available  by  simply  reversing  them  at  some 
points,  or  at  others  wholly  reconstructing  them  to  suit 
the  circumstances  of  the  ground.  The  troops,  without 
reserves,  were  then  placed  behind  our  cover,  dismounted, 
boxes  of  ammunition  distributed  along  the  line,  and  the 
order  passed  along  that  the  place  must  be  held.  All 
this  was  done  in  the  darkness,  and  while  we  were  work- 
ing away  at  our  cover,  the  enemy  could  be  distinctly 
heard  from  our  skirmish  line  giving  commands  and 
making  preparations  to  attack." 

Thursday  morning,  June  i,  the  rebels  attacked 
Sheridan  at  Cold  Harbor.  The  troopers  were  not 
directed  to  withhold  their  fire  till  they  could  "  see  the 
whites  of  the  eyes  "  of  the  foe,  but  they  permitted  the 
Johnnies  to  come  within  short  range  before  opening 
on  them.  The  Confederate  infantry  charged  the  breast- 
works, the  rebel  yell  being  heard  above  the  terrible  din 
of  battle.  Sheridan's  men  demonstrated  to  their  com- 
mander and  to  the  world  that  they  could  fight  afoot  or 
on  horseback.  The  rebels  did  not  get  near  enough  to 
stick  any  of  our  boys  with  their  bayonets,  which  had 
been  fixed  for  that  sort  of  butchery.  Before  thev  came 
within  bayonet  distance  they  were  so  badly  demoralized 
by  the  raking  fire  of  the  Federal  cavalrymen  armed 
with  breach-loading  carbines,  that  they  took  to  their 
heels  and  skedaddled  back  to  the  woods  from  which 
they   had    started   on    their    charge.      Their    flight   was 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

accelerated  by  the  terrible  fire  poured  into  their  ranks 
by  our  flying  artillery,  which  had  opened  on  the  rebels 
as  they  came  forward  to  the  attack. 

Again  the  Johnnies  came,  after  they  had  recovered 
somewhat  from  their  first  repulse.  But  the  Yankees 
gave  the  enemy  another  red-hot  reception,  and  the 
rebels  were  forced  to  take  to  the  woods.  Before  the 
second  charge  our  regiment  was  mounted  and  sent  out 
on  the  flank  to  support  a  battery  that  had  been  ordered 
to  shell  the  Confederates  out  of  a  piece  of  woods. 

It  was  a  very  trying  situation.  The  artillerymen 
ran  their  guns  out  to  the  skirmish  line,  unlimbered  and 
opened  on  the  woods.  The  rebels  replied  with  artillery 
and  infantry,  and  the  enemy's  gunners  got  our  range 
in  a  short  time.  The  shells  were  bursting  all  around 
and  over  us  for  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes.  We  sat  on 
our  horses  ready  to  charge  the  rebels  should  they  dash 
out  of  the  woods  and  attempt  to  capture  our  artillery. 
It  was  far  more  trying  on  the  nerves  to  sit  bolt  upright 
in  the  saddle  as  a  target  for  rebel  cannoneers  and  in- 
fantry, than  it  would  have  been  to  charge  the  enemy's 
lines  and  engage  in  hand-to-hand  conflict. 

A  solid  shot  cut  Corporal  Goddard's  haversack  from 
his  saddle  without  injuring  the  corporal  or  his  horse. 
Corporal  Jack  Hazelet  was  on  the  left  of  the  squadron. 
The  corporal  was  given  to  stammering,  and  so  was  the 
captain    and    brevet    major    in    command    of    the   next 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

squadron  on  our  left.  As  a  shell  went  shrieking  through 
the  air  just  over  our  heads,  the  boys  naturally  began  to 
dodge.     Then  the  captain  shouted: 

"  Wha-wha-what  you,  you,  you  dod-dod-dod-dodging 
at,  Cor-cor-corporal  ?  " 


"  You-you're    dod-dod-dodging,   Cor-cor-corporal !  " 

A  shell  burst  in  front  of  the  captain,  and  he  was 
seen  to  duck  his  head  as  a  piece  of  the  shell  went 
whizzing  close  to  his  ear. 

"  Wha-wha-what  you,  you,  you  dod-dod-dodging  at, 
Ma-ma-major?  " 

"  Who-who-who's  a  dod-dod-dod-dodging,  Cor-cor- 
corporal  ?  " 

"  You  -you-you're  dod-dod-dod-dodging.  Ma-ma- 
major !  " 

Of  course  everybody  dodged  —  it  was  natural  that 
they  should  under  such  circumstances. 

I  was  detailed  with  another  trooper  to  go  down  in  a 
ravine  to  the  right  of  our  position,  to  fill  the  canteens 
of  the  company.  I  jumped  at  the  chance,  as  I  thought 
it  would  take  me  out  of  the  direct  range  of  the  rebel 
artillery  for  a  little  while.  We  kept  well  to  the  rear  of 
the  regiment  till  we  reached  a  row  of  trees  and  under- 
brush skirting  the  ravine.  Then  we  faced  to  the  front 
and    followed  a  fence    about    half  a  mile.     We    found 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

water  and  dismounted  to  fill  our  canteens.  Pieces  of 
shell  began  to  drop  all  around  us  and  into  the  water. 
We  sprang  up  to  ascertain  the  cause  of  this  new  de- 
parture, and  discovered  that  the  rebel  artillery  was 
shelling  the  woods.  It  was  subsequently  learned  from 
a  rebel  prisoner  that  the  Johnnies  thought  a  column  of 
Federal  infantry  was  advancing  upon  their  position 
under  cover  of  the  trees. 

"  We  can't  stay  here,"  exclaimed  my  companion. 

"  I  should  say  not." 

"  Let's  go  back  to  the  company." 

"  All  right ;  go  ahead." 

We  sprang  into  our  saddles  and  hastened  to  get  out 
of  the  woods. 

As  we  came  into  the  open  field  near  where  we  had 
left  our  company,  we  saw  a  column  of  infantry  moving 
into  position.  The  doughboys  were  rushing  forward 
at  a  dog  trot,  with  their  long  toms  at  right  shoulder. 
It  was  a  division  of  the  Sixth  corps,  and  was  com- 
manded, I  think,  by  General  David  A.  Russell,  who  was 
wounded  that  day  or  the  next  while  gallantly  leading 
his  division  against  the  enemy's  lines.  He  was  subse- 
quently killed  at  the  battle  of  Opequan,  while  serving 
under  Sheridan  in  the  valley.  The  cavalrymen  were 
rejoiced  at  the  arrival  of  the  infantry,  and  at  once 
mounted  and  pushed  out  toward  the  Chickahominy  to 
cover  the  left  flank  of  Grant's  army. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

Our  regiment  and  the  battery  had  been  withdrawn 
as  soon  as  the  infantry  had  arrived,  and  had  moved  to 
the  left  with  the  rest  of  Daviess  brigade.  When  the 
two  water-carriers,  who  had  been  shelled  out  of  the 
woods,  reached  the  position  where  we  had  left  our 
company,  the  regiment  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

"  Which  way  did  the  cavalry  go  ?  "  I  asked  an 
infantry  colonel. 

"  They  pushed  on  to  the  front,"  he  replied. 

" Into  the  woods  ? " 

"  Yes." 

We  put  spurs  to  our  horses  and  dashed  down  the 
road  in  that  direction. 

We  reached  the  edge  of  the  woods  and  pushed  on, 
jumping  our  horses  over  temporary  rifle  pits  and  rail 
barricades  which  had  been  occupied  by  the  Confeder- 
ates, and  from  which  they  had  been  ousted  by  the  fire 
of  our  battery.  We  saw  dead  rebels  in  the  rifle  pits 
and  in  the  road.  We  galloped  on,  and  as  we  were 
beginning  to  wonder  what  had  become  of  our  regiment, 
we  came  against  a  column  of  rebel  infantry  marching 
toward  the  rifle  pits  we  had  passed  a  few  minutes  before. 

"  Whew  ! " 

"  Where's  our  cavalry  ?  "  I  stammered,  scarcely 
knowing  what  I  was  doing. 

"  What  cavalry  ?  "  asked  a  rebel  sergeant,  who  was 
in  charge  of  the  advance  sruard  of  the  column. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  Hampton's  ?  " 

"  Off  to  the  right." 

"  We  must  get  there  at  once  —  important  dis- 
patches." 

Our  advent  was  so  sudden  that  the  meeting  was  as 
much  of  a  surprise  to  the  rebels  as  it  was  to  us,  and  as 
it  was  not  uncommon  for  rebel  cavalrymen  to  "don  blue 
jackets  when  they  could  get  them  by  stripping  prisoners, 
the  Confederates  did  not  seem  to  grasp  the  situation 
till  we  had  turned  about  and  were  galloping  back  over 
the  road  toward  the  Federal  lines. 

"  Halt!" 

"  Halt,  you  infernal  Yankees  !  " 

The  order  was  backed  up  by  a  volley  from  the  rebel 
advance  guard.  The  bullets  whistled  about  our  ears, 
but  we  bent  low  in  our  saddles  and  never  looked  behind 
us  until  we  had  placed  the  Sixth  corps  between  us  and 
the  Confederates.  Then  we  drew  rein  and  took  an 
inventory.  Several  canteens  were  missing,  but  other- 
wise we  were  "  all  present  or  accounted  for,"  and  we 
rode  out  to  the  left  and  rejoined  our  company. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

Scut  to  the  Hospital  —  The  Convalescent '  s  Vision  —  The  Name 
on  the  Head-board — Killed  July  28,  1864 —  How  Taylor 
Died  —  Shot  with  his  Harness  On. 


HAD  stood  the  fatigues  of  the  campaign 
thus  far  without  once  answering  sick 
call,  but  in  the  latter  part  of  July  I 
began  to  feel  "de  misery  in  de  bowels," 
as  the  contrabands  described  the  disease 
that  attacked  the  soldiers  when  in  camp, 
and  sent  so  many  of  them  to  the  cemeteries.  I  fought 
against  it  as  long  as  I  could,  but  I  was  finally  compelled 
to  give  in,  and  allow  the  first  sergeant  to  put  my  name 
on  the  sick  book.  I  was  very  weak,  and  Taylor  assisted 
me  over  to  the  surgeon's  tent.  The  doctor  marked  me 
"  sick  in  quarters  "  the  first  da)',  and  I  swallowed  medi- 
cine every  two  hours  all  night.  The  next  morning  I 
was  unable  to  get  out  of  the  dog  tent  Taylor  had 
arranged  for  me. 

Along  in  the  middle  of  the  day  I  fell  asleep.     Taylor 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

had  insisted  that  I  should  "  take  a  nap  between  drinks," 
as  he  called  it. 

"  I'll  wake  you  up  in  time  for  your  toddy,"  he  said. 

I  was  awakened  by  the  sounding  of  "  boots  and 
saddles  "  all  through  the  camps. 

"What's  up?"   I  asked  Taylor. 

"  Got  to  move  right  away ;  guess  the  Johnnies 
have  broke  in  on  us  somewhere.  But  I'll  ask  the  major 
to  let  me  stay  and  take  care  of  you." 

And  my  faithful  nurse  ran  over  to  the  commanding 
officer's  tent  and  made  the  request. 

"  We  ran  away  and  enlisted  together,  Major,  and  the 
doctor  says  the  chances  are  against  him  unless  he's 
tended  with  great  care.  I  don't  want  to  shirk  duty,  but 
I'd  like  to  stay  and  see  my  towny  through." 

"  I'll  speak  to  the  doctor  about  it,"  replied  the  officer. 
"  Tell  the  doctor  to  come  here." 

When  the  surgeon  appeared,  he  stated  that  the  sick 
were  to  be  sent  to  the  hospital,  and  so  it  was  decided 
that  Taylor  could  not  be  spared  to  remain  with  me,  as 
the  movement  was  to  be  a  reconnaissance  in  force  on 
the  north  bank  of  the  James,  and  every  man  would  be 
needed.  Taylor  had  to  hustle  to  pack  his  traps  and 
saddle  up.  After  he  had  "  buckled  on  his  harness,"  as 
he  called  it,  he  came  back  to  me,  and  assisted  the 
hospital  steward  and  the  driver  in  lifting  me  into  an 
ambulance.     I  had   just  strength  enough    to   raise   my 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

head  and  thank  my  comrade,  who  stood  with  a  canteen 
of  fresh  water  he  had  brought  for  me,  beside  a  trooper 
who  had  been  wounded  in  the  arm  while  on  picket,  and 
who  was  to  go  with  me  in  the  ambulance. 

"  Thank  you,  Giles.  Write  and  tell  my  folks  about 
me  the  first  chance  you  get." 

"  I'm  sorry  to  leave  you,  but  I'll  come  over  to  City 
Point  and  see  you  in  a  few  days.  Keep  up  your  cour- 
age ;  you'll  pull  through  all  right.  But  the  company's 
leading  out.     I  must  go.     Good-by." 

"  Good-by,  Giles."  . 

I  did  not  have  strength  enough  to  sit  up  in  the 
ambulance  and  see  the  boys  as  they  rode  by,  but  Taylor 
had  told  them  I  was  in  the  vehicle,  and  I  could  hear 
them  say,  "  Good-by,  Allen,"  as  they  passed  along. 

Then  I  was  "  all  shook  up  "  as  the  ambulance  driver 
cracked  his  whip  and  shouted  to  his  mules  to  "  git  out 
o'  hyar !  "  I  do  not  remember  how  long  we  were  on 
the  road.  I  did  not  know  then,  for  I  was  unconscious 
part  of  the  time.  Now  and  then  we  struck  a  long 
stretch  of  corduroy  road.  Oh !  how  it  tortured  me. 
Only  old  soldiers  who  "  have  been  there  "  have  any  idea 
of  the  agony  experienced  in  a  ride  over  a  corduroy  road 
in  an  ambulance,  particularly  when  the  passenger  is  so 
weak  that  he  cannot  help  himself  at  all. 

"Drive  around  to  the  third  tent  there!" 

"  Yes,  sir." 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  How  many  men  have  you  ?  " 

"  One  wounded,  and  one  sick  or  dead  boy,  I  don't 
know  which.  He's  been  fainting  like,  all  the  afternoon." 
The  above  is  what  I  heard  upon  regaining  conscious- 
ness. We  had  arrived  at  the  cavalry  corps  hospital  on 
the  bank  of  the  Appomattox,  just  above  City  Point.  I 
was  taken  from  the  ambulance  and  placed  on  a  cot  in 
one  of  the  tents.  Then  I  became  unconscious  again, 
but  restoratives  were  given  me,  and  I  was  able,  when 
the  attendants  came  around  with  supper,  to  swallow  one 
spoonful  of  tea,  after  which  I  was  given  an  anodyne 
which  put  me  to  sleep. 

The  cavalry  corps  hospital  was  separate  from  the 
general  hospital  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  at  City 
Point,  and  was  used  exclusively  for  sick  and  wounded 
troopers.  The  best  possible  care  was  taken  of  the 
patients,  and  delicacies  in  the  shape  of  corn  starch, 
farina,  beef  tea,  canned  fruit,  jellies  and  other  articles 
not  included  in  the  regular  rations  were  supplied.  It 
was  several  days  after  my  arrival  before  I  was  con- 
sidered to  have  one  chance  in  twenty  of  pulling  through, 
but  I  had  a  strong  constitution,  and  nature  and  the 
surgeon's  prescriptions  won  after  a  hard  struggle. 

What  a  luxurv  I  found  the  cot  with  its  mattress, 
clean  sheets  and  a  pillow  —  just  think  of  it! 

After  I  had  passed  the  critical  point,  hovering 
between  life  and  death  for  several  days,  and  began  to 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

mend,  I  took  as  deep  an  interest  in  my  surroundings  as 
was  possible  under  the  circumstances.  Part  of  the  time 
I  was  in  a  sort  of  semi-unconscious  state,  the  quinine 
and  other  drugs  causing  my  brain  to  be  fired  up  so  that 
the  incidents  from  the  campaign  of  the  Wilderness  to  the 
crossing  of  the  James  were  all  jumbled  together  with 
recollections  of  home  and  the  events  of  my  boyhood. 

My  cot  was  near  the  open  fly  of  the  tent,  and  one 
day,  early  in  August,  I  was  bolstered  up  so  that  I  could 
get  a  view  of  the  grounds  sloping  away  toward  the 
Appomattox.  The  tents  were  on  a  little  knoll,  and  the 
ground  fell  away  toward  the  river  for  a  short  distance, 
and  then  there  was  quite  a  stretch  of  open  land  sloping 
upward  to  a  ridge,  on  the  other  side  of  which  was  the 
Appomattox. 

The  intervening  space,  beginning  at  the  foot  of  the 
slope  and  extending  nearly  to  the  rising  ground  toward 
the  river,  had  been  converted  into  a  cemetery.  Here 
were  buried  the  troopers  of  Sheridan's  command,  whose 
bodies  had  been  brought  from  the  battlefields,  and  also 
those  who  had  died  in  hospital.  I  soon  tired  of  looking 
at  the  rows  of  head-boards,  and  asked  to  be  laid  back 
on  my  cot.  Just  as  the  attendant  was  removing  the 
bolster  which  had  supported  me  in  a  sitting  posture,  I 
fancied  I  saw  the  name  "  Taylor  "  on  one  of  the  slabs 
out  there  in  the  field. 

As   the    nurse   laid    me   back   on  my  cot    I   was   so 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

fatigued  that  I  could  not  collect  my  thoughts  for  some 
time.  Then  I  began  to  think  about  the  regiment. 
Why  had  not  Taylor  been  to  the  hospital  to  see  me  ? 
Was  the  cavalry  on  the  north  bank  of  the  James  ?  Had 
there  been  another  raid  ?  Was  Giles  sick  ?  I  went  to 
sleep,  and  my  dreams  were  of  the  kind  that  causes  one 
to  wake  with  his  mind  more  confused  than  when  he 
goes  to  sleep.  The  real  and  the  unreal  were  so  linked 
together  that  it  was  difficult  to  separate  them. 

The  next  day  I  was  permitted  to  sit  up  in  bed  again. 
Then  I  began  to  search  for  that  head-board  that  had 
made  such  an  impression  on  me  the  day  before. 

After  a  time  I  located  the  one  which  had  "  Taylor  " 
on  it.  But  I  was  so  weak  that  my  eyes  gave  out  before 
I  could  make  out  the  rest  of  the  inscription. 

"  Taylor  ?  "  said  I  to  myself,  "  Taylor?  Why,  there 
are  hundreds  of  Taylors  in  the  army.  This  Taylor 
could  be  nothing  to  me. 

"  But  where  is  my  Taylor?  Why  hasn't  he  been  to 
see  me?  Of  course  if  anything  had  happened  to  Giles 
the  boys  would  have  sent  me  word." 

The  ward  master  came  along,  and  as  he  seemed  to 
be  a  good-natured  fellow,  I  said  to  him: 

"  Will  you  do  me  a  favor  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  my  boy,  if  I  can.     What  is  it?  " 

"  Tell  me  what  the  inscription  is  on  that  head-board 
out  there  —  the  one  with  '  Taylor  '  on  it  ?  " 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  Taylor  is  all  I  can  make  out  from  here,  as  the 
board  is  a  little  obliqued  from  this  point ;  but  if  it'll 
be  any  accommodation  to  you,  I'll  go  down  there  and 
see  what  it  is." 

"  I  would  be  so  thankful  if  you  would." 

The  ward  master  went  down  the  slope  and  to  the 
grave  in  which  I  had  come  to  be  so  deeply  interested. 
I  was  confident,  or  thought  I  was,  that  nothing  could 
have  happened  to  Giles,  but  at  the  same  time  I  could  not 
rest  until  I  found  out  the  full  name  of  the  trooper  who 
slumbered  in  that  particular  grave.  In  a  few  minutes 
the  ward  master  returned. 

"  It's  Taylor,"  he  said. 

"Yes  ;  but  what's  the  other  name  ?  " 

"  Giles  Taylor." 

"  What  regiment  ?  " 

"  First  Massachusetts  cavalry." 

"  What  company  ?  " 

"  Company  I." 

"  What  else  ?  " 

"Killed,  July  28,  1864." 

"  Where  ?  " 

"  Near  Malvern  Hill." 

"  Lay  me  down,  please." 

"  All  right,  my  boy ;  did  you  know  the  trooper 
buried  out  there  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  we  ran  away  together  to  enlist.     He  nursed 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

me  in  camp  when  I  was  stricken,  and  helped  put  me  in 
the  ambulance  when  I  was  sent  to  the  hospital  ;  he  was 
my  bunkey,  and  the  best  friend  I  had  in  the  company." 
"  It's  too  bad  ;  but  war  is  a  terrible  thing." 
The  day  that  I  started  for  the  hospital  Sheridan 
crossed  to  the  north  bank  of  the  James,  to  support  a 
movement  intended  to  cause  Lee  to  withdraw  the  bulk 
of  his  army  from  the  works  in  front  of  Petersburg. 
There  was  some  lively  fighting  out  near  Malvern  Hill, 
and  during  one  of  the  attacks  of  the  enemy  Taylor  was 
shot.  The  bullet  entered  his  groin,  severing  the  main 
arteries. 

Daniel  Booth,  a  bugler  who  was  near  Taylor  when 
the  latter  was  struck,  assisted  in  getting  the  wounded 
man  back  out  of  range.  Booth  told  me  that  Giles  did 
not  flinch  —  he  was  in  the  front  rank  when  he  was  shot. 
He  did  not  fall  from  his  horse,  but  fired  one  or  two 
shots  after  he  was  struck.     Then  he  said  to  Booth : 

"  I'm  hit  —  the  blood's  running  into  my  boot;  guess 
I'm  hurt  bad." 

Booth  hastened  to  Taylor's  assistance.  The  latter 
was  growing  weak  from  loss  of  blood.  Just  then  Gen. 
Davies's  headquarters  ambulance  came  along,  and  the 
oeneral  who  was  near  at  hand  and  had  seen  Booth  and 
another  soldier  supporting  Taylor  in  the  saddle,  directed 
them  to  put  him  in  the  ambulance. 

"No;  don't  let  them  put  me  in  the  ambulance  — 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

it'll  kill  me  if  they  lay  me  down.  Let  me  stay  in  the 
saddle,  boys." 

Booth  remained  with  Taylor  till  they  reached  the 
landing  where  the  wounded  men  were  being  loaded  on 
boats  to  be  taken  to  City  Point.  A  surgeon  examined 
Taylor's  wound. 

"  It's  fatal,"  the  doctor  whispered  to  Booth.  "  But 
he  can't  stay  here  ;  help  him  on  board  the  boat." 

The  boy  bugler  and  others  raised  the  dying  trooper 
and  bore  him  tenderly  on  board  the  steamer.  They 
laid  him  down  on  a  blanket  among  other  wounded 
soldiers.  Then  the  whistle  blew,  and  the  command  was 
given,  "All  ashore  that's  going!  "  Taylor  was  sinking 
fast,  but  he  pressed  Booth's  hand  and  said  : 

"  Good-by,  Booth;  I'm  dying.  Send  word  to  my 
folks  at  home — tell  them  I  faced  the  music,  and  was 
shot  with  my  harness  on.     Remember  me  to  the  boys." 

"  Good-by,  Giles." 

Booth  jumped  ashore  as  the  gang  plank  was  being 
pulled  on  board,  and  hastened  back  to  the  regiment. 
Poor  Taylor  was  a  corpse  before  the  boat  reached 
City  Point.  His  body  was  taken  to  the  cavalry  corps 
hospital,  and  buried  in  the  grave  the  head-board  of 
which  attracted  my  attention. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

Doleful  Tales  by  Deserters  from  Lee's  Army  —  President  Lin- 
coln's Visit  to  the  Front  —  A  Memorable  Meeting  —  The  Fort 
Stcadman  Assault  —  Lincoln  on  Horseback  —  At  the  Head  of 
the  Column  —  Wanted  to  Get  Off  and  Pull  Down  his  Pants. 


ESERTERS  from  the  Confederate  army 
at  Petersburg  came  into  the  Federal 
lines  with  doleful  tales  of  hunger  and 
hardships.  The  "  bull  pen  "  near  Meade's 
headquarters  was  filled  with  Johnnies 
who  had  run  away  from  Lee's  army. 
They  had  seen  the  handwriting  on  the  wall,  and  were 
convinced  that  they  had  been  fighting  for  a  lost  cause ; 
the  hopelessness  of  the  struggle  had  struck  home  to  their 
hearts  —  and  stomachs.  In  March,  1865,  before  Grant 
beo-an  the  movement  on  the  left  of  Petersburg,  a  number 
of  rebels  came  through  the  lines  and  surrendered. 

"  We  can't  stand  another  campaign,"  said  a  rebel 
deserter  at  the  bull  pen.  "  We  can't  march  and  fight 
on  quarter  rations  of  meal  and  only  a  smell  of  meat." 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  Do  you  think  the  Confederacy  is  gone  up  ?  " 

"  Shuah's  yo  born,  but  Bobby  Lee's  game.  He'll 
fight  till  the  last  ounce  of  powder  is  used  up." 

"  What's  the  use  ?  " 

"  No  use,  except  to  show  his  fidelity  to  the  cause." 

"  He  has  shown  that  already." 

"  So  he  has,  and  he's  in  a  mighty  bad  way." 

In  the  latter  part  of  March  the  signs  began  to  indi- 
cate that  a  general  break-up  was  at  hand.  Dispatch 
bearers  were  seen  on  all  sides,  dashing  away  with 
messages  from  army  headquarters  to  corps  commanders 
in  the  lines  in  front  of  Petersburg.  Horses  were  being 
shod,  army  wagons  overhauled  —  the  thousand  and  one 
things  betokening  a  move  were  noticed  in  the  camps. 

At  Meade's  headquarters  it  was  understood  that 
Grant  intended  to  begin  hammering  again  on  or  about 
the  first  of  April,  and  the  boys  were  satisfied  that  there 
would  be  no  April  fool  business  about  it. 

President  Lincoln  visited  Grant's  headquarters,  and 
was  present  when  the  Federal  army  moved  "  on  to 
Richmond "  for  the  last  time.  The  President  arrived 
about  March  22,  and  he  did  not  return  to  Washington 
till  after  the  fall  of  Richmond,  which  city  he  entered 
the  day  after  Jeff  Davis  fled.  Lincoln  was  at  City 
Point  when  Sheridan  arrived  after  he  had  whipped 
Early  out  of  the  Valley.  And  here,  too,  came  Sherman, 
the  hero  of  the  March  to  the  Sea. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

Tuesday,  March  28,  Gen.  Meade  rode  down  to  the 
point  and  conferred  with  the  general-in-chief.  It  was 
the  day  before  that  fixed  for  the  movement.  An  in- 
formal council  was  held  between  Lincoln,  Grant,  Sheri- 
dan, Sherman  and  Meade.  It  was  the  first  and  last 
time  that  these  five  great  men  were  ever  together.  In 
Richardson's  Personal  History  of  Grant,  the  following 
pen-picture  of  the  group  is  given  : 

"  Lincoln,  tall,  round-shouldered,  loose-jointed,  large- 
featured,  deep-eyed,  with  a  smile  upon  his  face,  is  dressed 
in  black,  and  wears  a  fashionable  silk  hat.  Grant  is  at 
Lincoln's  right,  shorter,  stouter,  more  compacts  wears  a 
military  hat  with  a  stiff  broad  brim,  has  his  hands  in 
his  pantaloons  pockets,  and  is  puffing  away  at  a  cigar 
while  listening  to  Sherman.  Sherman,  tall,  with  high, 
commanding  forehead,  is  almost  as  loosely  built  as  Lin- 
coln ;  has  sandy  whiskers,  closely-cropped,  and  sharp, 
twinkling  eyes,  slouched  hat,  his  pantaloons  tucked  into 
his  boots.  He  is  talking  hurriedly,  gesticulating  to 
Lincoln,  now  to  Grant,  his  eyes  wandering  everywhere. 
Meade,  also  tall,  with  thin,  sharp  features,  a  gray  beard 
and  spectacles,  is  a  little  stooping  in  his  gait.  Sheridan, 
the  shortest  of  all,  quick  and  energetic  in  all  his  move- 
ments, with  a  face  bronzed  by  sun  and  wind,  is  courteous, 
affable  and  a  thorough  soldier." 

Lincoln  visited  Meade  also.  I  was  one  of  the  de- 
tachment   sent   to   the  railroad    station   to   receive   the 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

President  and  escort  him  to  headquarters.  Orders  had 
been  issued  for  a  grand  review  in  honor  of  the  chief 
magistrate,  but  before  Lincoln  had  reached  the  station 
the  troops  were  more  seriously  engaged.  Gen.  Lee  had 
discovered  that  his  situation  was  becoming  more  critical 
each  hour  that  he  remained  in  Richmond,  and  he  deter- 
mined to  make  a  break  for  the  Union  works  near  the 
Appomattox,  on  the  Petersburg  line.  If  he  could  cap- 
ture and  hold  Fort  Steadman  and  the  ridge  in  rear  of 
it,  he  could  seriously  cripple  Grant's  army  and  perhaps 
seize  City  Point. 

General  John  B.  Gordon  was  the  commander  selected 
by  Lee  to  undertake  the  capture  of  the  works.  The 
assault  was  successful  so  far  as  getting  into  and  taking 
possession  of  Fort  Steadman  was  concerned,  but  the 
Federals  rallied  and  recaptured  the  fort,  the  guns  of 
which  had  been  turned  on  our  works  to  the  right  anc 
left.  The  rebels  had  plunged  into  the  Union  lines  in 
the  darkness.  The  pickets  were  scarcely  one  hundred 
and  fifty  feet  apart  in  front  of  Fort  Steadman,  and  the 
main  earthworks  were  separated  by  about  as  many  yards. 
It  is  said  that  Gordon  had  the  utmost  confidence  in  the 
success  of  the  expedition.  He  had  been  assured  that 
the  assault  would  be  supported  by  troops  from  A.  P. 
Hill  and  Longstreet's  corps.  It  was  a  bold  attack,  but 
the  gallant  boys  in  blue,  though  driven  from  the  fort 
and  some  of  the  works  in  the  immediate  vicinity  at  the 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

outset,  returned  to  the  front,  and  the  rebel  general  found 
that  he  had  no  time  to  spare  in  getting  back  behind  the 
Confederate  breastworks.  The  Johnnies  were  routed 
with  great  loss,  and  nearly  two  thousand  prisoners  were 
captured  by  the  Federals. 

The  attack  on  Fort  Steadman  woke  up  the  whole 
army.  Meade  concluded  to  give  the  Johnnies  all  the 
fighting  they  wanted,  and  he  ordered  the  Second  and 
Sixth  corps  —  occupying  the  line  to  the  left  of  the  Ninth 
corps  in  the  front  of  which  the  rebel  assault  was  made 

—  to  push  out  and  see  what  was  going  on  in  their  front. 

The  boys  went  forward  with  a  cheer,  and  the  Con- 
federate pickets  were  driven  back  into  the  main  fortifi- 
cations, the  rifle  pits  and  the  strongly  intrenched  picket 
line  being  taken  by  the  assaulting  forces.  Nearly  nine 
hundred  Johnnies  were  captured. 

Several  counter  charges  were  made  by  the  rebels  to 
drive  our  boys  out  of  the  works,  but  they  satisfied  them- 
selves that  the  Yankees  had  come  to  stay.  It  was  a 
cold  day  for  the  Confederates  all  along  the  line. 

President  Lincoln  witnessed  the  battle  in  front  of 
the  Second  and  Sixth  corps.  He  was  on  a  ridge  near 
the  signal   tower  of  the  Second  corps.     Several  ladies 

—  I  think  Mrs.  Grant,  and  I  don't  know  but  Mrs.  Lin- 
coln was  in  the  party  —  were  there.  They  had  been 
driven  out  from  the  railroad  in  an  ambulance  to  see  the 
review,  but  the   President  came   to   the  front  mounted. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

As  a  horseman  Lincoln  was  not  a  success.  As  I  re- 
member it,  he  rode  Grant's  best  horse.  Several  staff 
officers  were  at  the  station  with  a  detachment  of  cavalry 
to  look  after  the  President.  The  latter's  clothes  seemed 
to  fit  him  when  he  got  into  the  saddle,  but  before  he 
dismounted  at  the  signal  tower  he  presented  a  sorry 
spectacle  indeed.  The  cavalry  escort  reached  the  station 
a  few  minutes  before  the  train  from  the  Point  came 
puffing  along.  The  President  stood  on  the  platform  of 
the  only  passenger  coach.  The  escort  presented  sabers 
and  Lincoln  acknowledged  the  salute  by  raising  his  hat. 
Then  he  came  down  from  the  cab  and  shook  hands 
with  the  staff  officers,  who  seemed  to  feel  highly  com- 
plimented to  be  recognized  by  the  commander-in-chief. 
But  when  the  President  extended  his  hand  to  a  high 
private  of  the  rear  rank  who  stood  holding  the  horse  His 
Excellency  was  to  ride,  and  insisted  on  shaking  hands 
with  each  soldier  of  the  escort,  the  wearers  of  shoulder 
straps  appeared  to  be  dazed  at  such  familiarity.  The 
honored  head  of  the  greatest  nation  on  earth  recogniz- 
ing in  the  wearer  of  the  plain  blue  blouse  of  a  humble 
private  a  fellow  citizen  !  Military  red  tape  could  not 
comprehend  it,  but  it  made  no  difference  with  "  Father 
Abraham  "  ;  he  had  a  way  of  doing  just  as  he  pleased 
on  such  occasions.  As  the  President  advanced  to 
mount,  the  orderly  in  charge  of  the  horse,  with  a  sly 
clance  at  Lincoln's  legs,  said  : 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  You  ride  a  longer  stirrup  than  the  general,  sir.  I'll 
fix  them  in  a  jiffy." 

"  No,  no,  my  man ;  never  mind.  The  stirrups  are 
all  right.  I  don't  like  to  stand  on  my  toes  in  the 
saddle." 

Then  the  President  threw  his  right  leg  over  the 
horse's  back  and  smiled  at  the  orderly's  surprise  at  such 
an  unmilitary  exhibition  as  Lincoln  made  of  himself  in 
getting  into  the  saddle. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  great  emancipator,  as  the 
orderly  relinquished  his  hold  of  the  bridle,  and  the  horse 
with  his  distinguished  rider  began  to  dance  around 
ready  for  the  word  "  Forward." 

The  staff  officers  sprang  into  their  saddles,  the 
escort  broke  into  columns  of  fours,  and  the  party  started 
for  the  front.  The  President  had  jammed  his  hat  well 
down  over  the  back  of  his  head  to  keep  it  from  falling 
off.  He  leaned  forward  in  the  saddle  so  that  his  chin 
almost  touched  the  horse's  mane.  His  coat  was  unbut- 
toned and  soon  worked  itself  up  around  his  arms  and 
flapped  out  behind.  His  vest  seceded  from  his  panta- 
loons and  went  up  toward  his  neck,  so  that  his  white 
shirt  showed  between  the  vest  and  trousers  like  a  sash. 
And  it  did  not  take  long  for  the  pantaloons  to  creep  up 
the  long  legs  of  the  distinguished  visitor.  Up  to  the 
knees  they  went  —  and  higher.  The  President  dis- 
covered that  he  was   not  cutting  a  very  fine  figure,  but 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

he  had  no  time  to  fix  things.  His  horse  required  all 
his  attention,  and  more,  too.  The  animal  knew  he  was 
entitled  to  the  head  of  the  column,  and  he  kept  there. 

Some  of  the  staff  officers,  fearing  perhaps  that  the 
horse  would  run  away  with  the  President,  essayed  to 
ride  alongside  and  seize  the  bridle.  The  attempt  proved 
a  dismal  failure.  On  went  the  fiery  steed,  bearing  his 
honored  rider  out  the  road  toward  the  breastworks. 
Lincoln  held  on.  Now  his  feet  were  in  the  stirrups 
with' his  knees  bobbing  up  nearly  to  his  chin  ;  anon  his 
feet  were  out  of  the  stirrups  and  his  long  legs  dangled 
down  almost  to  the  ground.  As  we  approached  the  line 
of  battle  of  the  Second  corps,  it  was  understood  that 
the  horse  had  "  taken  the  bit  in  his  mouth."  Would  he 
stop  when  he  reached  the  group  of  officers  up  on  the 
knoll,  or  would  he  go  on  and  carry  the  President  into 
the  battle  over  there  between  the  forts  ?  Whatever 
apprehensions  may  have  been  felt  by  the  chief  magis- 
trate or  any  of  those  in  the  escort  on  this  score,  were 
quieted  as  we  drew  near  to  the  signal  tower.  The  horse 
slackened  his  speed  and  gave  the  President  an  oppor- 
tunity to  shake  himself  a  little,  so  that  his  coat  and 
pantaloons  were  to  some  extent  brought  back  where 
they  belonged. 

The  President  seemed  to  regain  his  wonted  good 
nature  at  once  upon  halting,  and  when  some  of  the  gen- 
eral officers  who  came  to  greet  him  asked  him  how  he 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

had  enjoyed  his  ride,  he  exclaimed,  with  a  merry  twinkle 
in  his  eye  :  "  It  was  splendid.  I  don't  know  but  I  rode 
a  little  too  fast  for  the  gentlemen  who  followed,  but 
I  was  anxious  to  get  here  —  or  somewhere  —  where  I 
could  have  a  good  view  of  the  fight  and  get  off  and 
pull  down  my  pants." 

And  Father  Abraham  laughed  heartily  as  he  joined 
the  group  near  the  signal  tower.  Did  the  President 
relate  an  anecdote  or  two  called  up  by  the  incidents  of 
the  trip  ?  No  ;  for  the  booming  of  the  cannon,  the 
roaring  of  the  musketry  and  the  cheers  of  the  troops 
as  they  marched  by  and  took  up  the  double  quick  to 
join  in  the  assault  on  the  enemy's  outer  works  in 
front  of  Petersburg,  called  the  attention  of  all  to  the 
serious  events  transpiring  so  close  at  hand. 

How  the  soldiers  cheered  when  informed  of  Lincoln's 
presence  !  They  waved  their  caps  and  held  their  musk- 
ets over  their  heads  as  they  pushed  on,  many  of  them 
to  die  in  a  few  minutes  in  that  desperate  struggle  for 
the  rebel  pits  and  breastworks. 

Meade  succeeded  in  capturing  and  holding  several 
important  points  in  front  of  Petersburg,  and  the  poor 
Johnnies  were  more  discouraged  than  ever  before.  The 
President  and  his  party  returned  to  City  Point  that 
night,  and  he  remained  at  Grant's  headquarters  till  after 
the  lieutenant-general  moved  out  to  the  left  and  until 
the  fall  of   Richmond. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

Grant's  Spring  Opening —  By  the  Left  Flank  Again —  Sheridan 
at  Five  Forks  —  The  Fall  of  Richmond  and  Petersburg  —  A 
Dangerous  Ride  —  How  Jeff  Davis  faced  the  Yankees  — 
Chasing  Lee  up  the  Appomattox  —  Breaking  the  Backbone  of 
the  Southern  Confederacy — The  Surrender — Confiscating  a 
Confederate  Goose  —  A  Colored  Boy  to  the  Rescue. 


ND  now  came  the  orders  for  what  Grant 
intended  should  be  the  last  grand  cam- 
paign of  the  gallant  Army  of  the  Poto- 
mac. Sheridan,  as  usual,  was  to  lead 
off  and  push  out  around  the  right  flank 
of  the  rebel  forces  cooped  up  in  Peters- 
burg and  Richmond.  The  bulk  of  the 
army  was  to  follow,  and  it  was  evident  that  unless  the 
Southern  Confederacy  got  out  of  the  way  "  right  smart," 
somebody  would  get  hurt.  Everybody  was  on  the  move, 
or  ready  to  move,  even  the  troops  who  were  to  remain 
in  the  fortifications  having  their  knapsacks  packed. 
The  feelins;  was  general  anions:  the   rank  and   file 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

that  a  decisive  battle  was  to  be  fought,  and  all  felt 
that  the  Union  cause  would  triumph.  There  were  no 
spread-eagle  proclamations  promulgated  through  general 
orders.  Grant  was  never  given  to  that.  His  instruc- 
tions to  his  lieutenants  gave  them  to  understand  just 
what  they  were  expected  to  do  —  they  were  to  move 
against  the  rebels  and  go  in  to  win. 

Little  Phil  opened  the  ball  at  Five  Forks  on  the  last 
day  of  March.  The  army  had  moved  March  29,  but 
the  infantry  had  been  unable  to  make  much  progress, 
being  stuck  in  the  mud,  for  the  rain  set  in  during  the 
evening  of  the  twenty-ninth  and  continued  all  night  and 
the  next  day  and  night.  The  rebels  pressed  Sheridan 
hard.  Yet  the  hero  of  Winchester  held  on  like  grim 
death.  The  next  day  with  the  aid  of  the  infantry  sent 
to  his  support,  he  pitched  in  and  routed  the  rebels, 
capturing  more  than  five  thousand  prisoners  and 
putting  to  flight  fifteen  thousand  or  more,  who  ske- 
daddled in  such  a  hurry  that  they  left  behind  all  their 
cannon  and  supply  wagons.  The  battle  was  anything 
but  an  April-fool  joke. 

Meade,  Orel  and  Parke  made  a  general  assault  on 
the  works  in  front  of  Petersburg,  April  2.  It  was  Sun- 
day morning.  The  roar  of  battle  could  be  heard  -from 
away  over  on  the  Appomattox  above  City  Point,  all 
along  the  line.  It  was  a  magnificent  sight  to  see  the 
infantry  going  in.     As  the  charge  was  being  made,  Gen. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

Meade  sent  Major  Emory  of  his  staff  with  a  dispatch 
to  Gen.  Wright  commanding  the  Sixth  corps.  I  was 
directed  to  accompany  the  major.  Gen.  Wright  was 
said  to  be  hotly  engaged  in  capturing  intrenchments  off 
to  the  left  of  Petersburg,  and  to  reach  him  it  would  be 
necessary  to  make  a  wide  circuit  to  the  left  and  rear,  or 
ride  directly  across  the  field  where  the  battle  was  raging. 
Major  Emory  decided  upon  the  latter  course,  and  away 
we  went. 

The  Johnnies,  realizing  that  their  time  had  come, 
were  making  a  desperate  defense  of  the  works,  and  the 
shot  and  shell  screeched  over  and  under  and  around  us 
on  all  sides  as  we  rode  the  line  of  battle.  One  shell 
exploded  directly  under  the  major's  horse,  throwing  up 
a  cloud  of  dirt  and  smoke,  and  for  a  moment  I  felt  sure 
Gen.  Meade  had  lost  one  of  his  aids.  Then  I  heard 
the  major  shout : 

"  Come  on.     I'm  all  right." 

It  was  dangerous  work.  The  infantry  soldiers  were 
falling  on  all  sides.  But  we  came  out  alive  and  reached 
Gen.  Wright,  who  had  broken  through  the  outer  lines 
and  was  pushing  toward  Petersburg. 

The  fall  of  Richmond  !  All  Sunday  night  the  rebels 
were  getting  out  of  Richmond  and  Petersburg.  The 
backbone  of  the  Confederacy  was  broken  indeed.  The 
news  seemed  too  good  to  be  true.  We  rode  into 
Petersburg    Monday    morning,    bright    and    early,    and 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

without  dismounting,  we  kept  on  and  immediately  took 
up  the  line  of  march  in  pursuit  of  Lee's  army,  which 
was  now  retreating  up  the  Appomattox. 

It  was  a  hot  chase  —  a  sort  of  go-as-you-please.  Of 
course  when  Richmond  was  evacuated,  the  boys  in  blue 
felt  that  the  end  was  at  hand.  When  the  Confederate 
commander  telegraphed  to  Jeff  Davis  that  the  "  enemy  " 
had  broken  the  line  in  front  of  Petersburg,  it  was  a 
cold  day  for  C.  S.  A. 

It  is  recorded  that  Jeff  Davis  was  attending  church 
when  he  received  Lee's  dispatch,  and  that  he  quietly 
stole  away  without  waiting  for  the  doxology  or  the 
benediction.  It  was  a  clear  case  of  "  every  man  for 
himself."  The  "  president  "  didn't  whisper  even  to  the 
brother  in  the  next  pew  that  it  was  time  to  flee  from 
the  wrath  to  come.  No.  Perhaps  he  had  heard  the 
echo  of  that  familiar  Yankee  hymn: 

"  We'll  hang  Jeff  Davis  to  a  sour  apple-tree, 
As  we  go  marching  on." 

The  "  president  "  made  better  time  in  getting  away 
from  the  seat  of  government  than  was  made  by  the 
braves  in  butternut.  He  did  not  draw  a  long  breath 
till  he  had  distanced  the  retreating  Confederates  and 
reached  Danville.  To  stimulate  his  soldiers  to  deeds 
of  daring  —  and  to  induce  them  to  beat  back  the  Union 
army  if    possible    till    he  could  make  good  his  escape 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

—  Davis  declared  in  a  proclamation,  issued  on  the  wing 
at  Danville,  April  5,  1865,  that  "  Virginia,  with  the  help 
of  the  people,  and  by  the  blessings  of  Providence,  shall 
be  held  and  defended."  "  Let  us,"  he  continued,  "  meet 
the  foe  with  fresh  defiance,  and  with  unconquered  and 
unconquerable  hearts." 

Before  his  signature  to  the  document  was  dry,  Jeff 
was  making  a  bee-line  for  Georgia.  He  was  willing  to 
meet  the  foe  face  to  face  on  paper.  "  You  hold  Grant 
in  check  till  I  can  get  far  enough  South  to  establish  a 
rallying-point,"  was  the  burden  of  his  messages  to  the 
rebel  general  when  read  between  the  lines.  At  all 
events,  the  president  of  the  Southern  Confederacy  took 
to  the  woods,  and  was  next  heard  of  at  Irwinsville, 
Georgia,  May  11,  1S65.  Wilson's  troopers  took  the 
fugitive  into  camp  on  that  day. 

The  circumstances  of  the  capture  of  Jeff  Davis  have 
been  the  subject  of  heated  controversy  —  in  magazine 
articles  and  newspaper  publications.  Whatever  may  be 
the  fact  in  respect  of  his  wearing  apparel  at  the  time 
the  Yankee  cavalrymen  overhauled  the  rebel  president 

—  whether  he  had  on  his  wife's  petticoats  or  was  clad 
in  masculine  attire  —  certain  it  is  that  in  abandoning 
the  "  lost  cause,"  and  leaving  Lee  and  his  followers  to 
"  meet  the  foe  with  fresh  defiance,"  while  he  skedaddled, 
the  "  rebel  hero"  —  still  idolized  and  worshiped  by  the 
solid  South  —  made  a  sorry  exhibition  of  himself. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 


On  the  chase  up  the  Appomattox  our  boys  were 
kept  busy  —  in  the  saddle  night  and  clay  —  carrying- 
dispatches  to  and  from  Meade's  headquarters.  It  was 
a  very  interesting  period.  Sheridan  was  neck-and-neck 
with  Lee,  while  the  grand  old  Army  of  the  Potomac 
was  hot  on  the  rebel  commander's  trail. 

Gen.  Meade  was  seriously  ill  for  several  days  pre- 
ceding the  negotiations  that  led  to  the  surrender.  But 
he  kept  in  the  saddle  most  of  the  time,  in  spite  of  the 
request  of  the  headquarters'  medical  men,  that  he 
should  "avoid  all  excitement!"  It  was  strange  advice 
to  give  under  such  circumstances.  The  hero  of  Gettys- 
burg realized  that  the  boys  were  knocking  the  bottom 
out  of  the  Southern  Confederacy,  and  he  was  determined 
to  be  in  at  the  death. 

Whenever  there  was  heavy  firing  at  the  front,  Meade 
would  get  out  of  the  ambulance,  in  which  he  rode  when 
compelled  to  leave  the  saddle,  and  call  for  his  favorite 
horse  "  Baldy."  Then  he  would  ask  his  son  George, 
one  of  his  aids,  or  Major  Jay  or  Major  Emory,  to  assist 
him  into  the  saddle.  Once  mounted,  the  general  seemed 
to  have  a  way  of  shaking  off  his  sickness.  He  would 
press  on  to  the  head  of  the  column  and  make  a  personal 
reconnaissance.  As  soon  as  the  rear  guard  of  the  rebels 
—  left  to  check  the  Union  advance  while  the  Confed- 
erate wagon  trains  and  artillery  were  hurried  to  the 
west  —  was   brushed   out   of  the    way,   and   the   line   of 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

march  resumed,  the  general  would  return  to  his  ambu- 
lance, at  times  completely  exhausted. 

April  4,  1865,  was  one  of  the  hardest  days  of  the 
chase.  It  was  a  forced  march  with  only  an  occasional 
breathing  spell  when  the  advance  was  feeling  its  way 
along  the  roads  leading  toward  Appomattox.  That 
night  we  unsaddled  with  what  we  considered  fair  pros- 
pects of  rest.  But  before  we  had  settled  clown  for 
sleep,  a  trooper  dashed  up  to  Meade's  headquarters. 
The  general  was  so  ill  that  he  could  scarcely  hold  up 
his  head,  but  when  told  that  Sheridan  had  intercepted 
the  Confederates,  and  predicted  the  capture  of  Lee's 
army  if  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  would  push  to  the 
front  near  Jettersville,  Meade  got  out  of  bed  and  gave 
orders  for  the  march  to  be  resumed  at  two  o'clock  in 
the  morning. 

The  bovs  were  waiting  for  the  wagons  to  come  up 
with  the  hard  tack  and  coffee,  and  the  prospect  of  push- 
ing on  without  grub  was  anything  but  transporting. 
Still  when  the  time  came  to  "fall  in,"  the  men  obeyed 
with  a  cheerfulness  characteristic  of  the  veterans  of  the 
gallant  army  that  for  four  years  had  fought  Lee's  soldiers 
with  varied  success. 

The  next  morning  Sheridan's  men  —  a  scouting 
party  under  Gen.  Davies,  our  brigade  commander  — 
played  havoc  with  a  Confederate  wagon  train  that  was 
"  sifting  west."     Nearlv  two  hundred  wagons  were  de- 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

stroyed.  It  was  hard  for  the  Johnnies  to  witness  the 
destruction  of  their  supply  train.  Poor  fellows,  they 
needed  all  the  grub  they  could  get,  and  more,  too. 
They  fought  desperately,  but  the  battle  was  against 
them.  The  Federal  column  moved  on,  and  the  sur- 
rounding of  Lee's  army  was  pushed  on  all  sides.  The 
boys  in  blue  were  hungry,  but  they  kept  in  good  spirits. 
"We  can  stand  it  if  the  rebs  can,"  was  remarked  now 
and  then  as  the  boys  were  ordered  to  move  on  just 
before  the  supply  train  would  get  up. 

On  the  battlefield  of  Sailor's  Creek  I  picked  up 
Gen.  Lee's  order  book.  The  last  order  copied  into 
the  book  was  dated  Saturday,  April  i,  1865,  and,  as  I 
remember  it,  the  order  referred  to  the  sending  of  re-en- 
forcements from  the  works  in  front  of  Petersburg  to 
oppose  Sheridan's  advance  on  the  Union  left.  The 
ground  was  strewn  with  the  debris  of  the  rebel  head- 
quarters' train.  Army  wagons  with  spokes  cut  out  of 
the  wheels  were  overturned  on  both  sides  of  the  road. 
"  In  the  last  ditch  ;  "  "  The  C.  S.  A.  is  gone  up ;  "  "  We 
all  can't  whip  you  all  without  something  to  eat,"  and 
other  humorous  inscriptions  appeared  on  the  canvas 
covers  of  the  wagons.  I  wish  I  had  held  on  to  Lee's 
order  book.  It  would  have  been  valuable  to-day.  But 
it  was  heavy,  and  I  threw  it  aside. 

April  9,  1865,  while  Sheridan  was  square  across  the 
road  preventing   Lee's  further  advance  without  cutting 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

his  way  through,  and  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  was  on 
the  iiank  and  rear,  came  the  news  that  white  flags  were 
displayed  along  the  rebel  lines  and  that  Grant  and  Lee 
were  negotiating  for  the  surrender  of  the  Confederate 
army  of  Northern  Virginia.  Meade's  headquarters  con- 
tingent was  bivouacked  just  off  the  road  leading  to 
Appomattox  Court  House  from  Farmville. 

"  Lee's  going  to  surrender  !  " 

The  boys  could  scarcely  credit  the  report  that  the 
Confederate  commander  had  asked  terms,  for,  somehow 
or  other,  after  a  week's  hard  chase  the  Yankees  had 
begun  to  fear  that  Lee  would  effect  a  junction  with 
Johnston  in  North  Carolina.  But  when  an  orderly  from 
Grant's  headquarters  dashed  up  and  handed  Meade  a 
letter  from  the  lieutenant-general  confirming  the  report 
that  Lee  had  accepted  Grant's  terms,  there  was  the 
greatest  joy  at  headquarters. 

The  news  spread  like  wildfire,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
the  tired  soldiers  were  dancing  with  joy.  I  was  broiling 
a  confiscated  chicken  in  the  angle  of  a  rail  fence  when 
the  orderly  rode  up.  When  I  was  told  of  the  tidings 
he  had  brought  I  threw  the  chicken  as  high  as  I  could, 
kicked  the  fire  in  every  direction,  and  shouted  till  my 
throat  was  sore. 

Gen.  Meade,  with  a  few  members  of  the  escort  of 
which  I  was  one,  rode  into  the  Confederate  lines  and  to 
Lee's  camp.      The  Southern  commander  had  only  a  wall 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

tent  fly  for  headquarters.  Longstreet  was  there  and 
several  others  whom  Meade  had  known  in  the  old  army. 
Meade  and  Lee  conversed  for  a  few  minutes  alone.  In 
the  meantime  a  sergeant  of  Meade's  escort  and  a  ser- 
geant of  Lee's  headquarters  guard  entered  into  such  a 
heated  argument  that  the  interference  of  several  officers 
of  both  sides  was  necessary  to  prevent  them  from  fight- 
ing to  a  finish. 

As  we  were  riding  down  the  slope  from  Lee's 
bivouac,  a  weather-stained  Confederate,  wearing  an  old 
slouch  hat,  a  short  butternut  jacket,  and  with  a  dilapi- 
dated blanket  wrapped  about  his  shoulders,  shouted  to 
Meade.  The  commander  of  the  Arm}-  of  the  Potomac 
did  not  recognize  the  man  who  hailed  him  and  who 
held  out  his  hand,  until  the  rebel  said  : 

"  Don't  you  know  me,  General  ?  I'm  Gen.  Wise  of 
Virginia." 

Then  there  was  another  handshake.  Wise  was  the 
sorriest  looking  general  I  saw  at  the  surrender.  Lee 
and  Longstreet  and  some  of  the  others  were  clad  in 
bright  new  uniforms,  but  Wise  looked  as  though  he 
had  been  rolled  in  the  mud  all  the  way  from  Petersburg. 

After  calling  on  Lee,  Meade  rode  over  to  the  Court 
House  and  congratulated  Grant  and  Sheridan  on  the 
result.  The  Union  generals  seemed  to  enjoy  the  "  love 
feast." 

There  was  joy  and  gladness  on  all  sides.     A   major- 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

ity  of  the  rebels  who  surrendered  at  Appomattox  ac- 
cepted the  inevitable  with  better  grace  than  could  have 
been  expected  of  them  after  the  desperate  resistance 
they  had  made.  But  when  you  put  food  into  a  starving 
man's  mouth  the  chances  favor  his  smothering  his 
hatred  if  he  has  such  feeling  toward  you. 

"  Dog  gone  it,  that's  splendid  coffee,"  said  a  butter- 
nut clad  veteran  who  shared  my  supper  the  night  of 
the  surrender.  "  You  all  overpowered  us  ;  we  couldn't 
hold  out  on  wind  any  longer.  I  like  this  meat ;  I  tell 
you,  it's  good.  I  didn't  know  I  was  so  hungry  ;  I  must 
have  got  beyond  the  hunger  point." 

Then  came  the  order  for  the  return.  It  was  not 
"on  to  Richmond"  this  time,  but  "on  to  Washington." 
We  all  knew  that  the  war  was  over  —  that  Sherman 
would  make  short  work  of  the  Confederate  Army  in  the 
Carolinas  under  Johnston. 

When  we  mounted  our  horses  and  rode  back  toward 
Burkesville  station,  leaving  the  provost  marshal  and  a 
small  force  at  Appomattox  to  parole  the  prisoners,  it 
was  conceded  by  both  Yankee  and  rebel  that  the  Army 
of  the  Potomac  and  the  army  of  Northern  Virginia 
would  never  again  meet  as  enemies  on  the  battlefield. 
The  boys  in  blue  felt  that  they  had  fought  a  good  fight, 
won  a  glorious  victory,  and  could  now  return  to  their 
homes  proud  to  have  been  permitted  to  suffer  and  do 
battle  under  the  flag  of  the  Union. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

It  was  a  happy  arm)-  that  faced  about  at  Appomat- 
tox and  took  up  the  march  for  Washington.  The 
bands  played,  and  the  victorious  Federals  sang.  The 
bivouacs  at  night  were  camp  meetings  on  a  large  scale. 
Somehow  the  boys  did  not  need  as  much  sleep  as  was 
required  when  in  winter  quarters.  Discipline  was  re- 
laxed, and  colonels  and  corporals,  captains  and  privates 
talked  over  the  results  of  the  last  campaign  without 
any  "  red  tape  nonsense,"  as  the  boys  were  wont  to  call 
a  strict  observance  of  military  discipline  when  there  was 
no  fighting  to  do. 

1  he  song  that  was  sung  with  the  most  expression 
on  that  homeward  march,  was  a  parody  on  "  Dear 
Mother,  I've  come  home  to  die,"  the  last  word  being 
changed  to  "  eat."      Then  there  was  that  lively  air: 


"  When  Johnny  comes  marching  home  again, 

Hurrah,  hurrah  ! 
When  Johnnv  comes  marching  home  again, 

Hurrah,  says  I  ; 
The  lads  and  lassies,  so  thev  sav, 
With  roses  they  will  strew  the  way, 
And  we'll  all  feel  gay 
When  Johnny  comes  marching  home." 


On  the  road  between  Farmville  and  Burkesville 
station  I  dismounted  at  a  farmhouse  and  asked  a  little 
negro  boy  who  stood  near  the  fence  with  mouth  and 
eyes  wide  open,  for  a  drink  of  water.  The  lad  seemed 
to  be  frightened,  and  ran  away  around  the  house. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE 

"  You,  Julius,  come  here  !  "  shouted  a  middle-aged 
lady  who  stepped  out  on  the  piazza.  She  had  over- 
heard my  request  for  water.  The  young  darky  returned 
at  the  lady's  command. 

"  I'se  'fraid  dese  Yankees,"  he  said. 

"  I  don't  think  they'll  molest  you,  Julius.  Bring  the 
gentleman  a  drink  of  water." 

I  was  invited  to  a  seat  on  the  piazza  pending  Julius's 
expedition  to  the  spring  house,  a  rod  or  two  back  of  the 
dwelling.  He  returned  with  a  large  gourd  dipper  filled 
with  deliciously  cool  water.  In  the  meantime  three 
young  ladies,  daughters  of  the  middle-aged  lady,  ap- 
peared on  the  piazza  and  were  presented  by  their 
mother  to  the  Yankee.  Then  Julius  went  to  the  spring 
to  fill  my  canteen. 

"  I'm  sorry  we  have  nothing  but  water  to  offer  you," 
said  the  mother. 

The  young  ladies  also  ventured  to  speak. 

"  The  two  armies,  ours  and  yours,  just  took  every- 
thing in  the  shape  of  provisions  on  the  place." 

"  Yes  ;  and  the  soldiers  found  where  we  had  stored  a 
few  hams  and  a  sack  of  flour  down  in  the  woods." 

"  And  they  made  out  they  came  across  the  place 
accidentally  like.  I  believe  Jeb,  a  brother  of  Julius, 
told  the  Yankees  where  we  had  buried  the  box  with 
the  hams  and  flour,  for  he  hasn't  been  seen  on  the 
plantation  since." 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

"  I  am  really  sorry  for  you,  ladies.  I  will  speak  to 
Gen.  Meade,  and  I  am  sure  he  will  direct  the  commis- 
sary to  supply  you  with  something  to  eat." 

"  I  think  we  can  hold  out  for  another  day,"  said  the 
mother.  "  My  husband  was  in  Longstreet's  corps,  and 
he  said  when  he  galloped  by  here  the  other  day  that 
the  Confederacy  was  played  out,  and  that  if  something 
providential  did  not  turn  up  on  the  side  of  Lee's  army 
they  would  all  be  gobbled  up  inside  of  ten  days.  His 
last  words  were:  '  If  you  can  save  me  a  dish  of  meat 
of  some  kind  till  I  get  home,  do  it ;  it  may  save  my 
life.'  " 

"  And  we're  doing  our  best  for  papa." 

"  Yes,  we  are.  When  the  last  Yankees  marched  by 
on  the  way  to  the  surrender,  we  found  we  had  one  goose 
left"  — 

"  Yes;  and  we've  got  the  goose  yet,  clown  in  the 
cellar  "  — 

"  Now,  Miss  Emma,  you  have  told  a  Yankee  about 
the  goose,  and  papa's  chances  for  dinner  when  he  comes 
home  are  mighty  slim." 

"  Dear  sir,  you  will  spare  us  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Yankee,  let  us  keep  our  goose  ?  " 

"  I  know  you  didn't  mean  to  rob  us  !  " 

"  The  goose  is  safe,  ladies.  Cook  your  goose  for 
the  family  reunion,  for  I  assure  you  that  there  isn't  a 
man  in  the  Federal  army  mean  enough  to  steal  a  goose 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

under  such  circumstances,  especially  now  that  the  war 
is  over." 

"  I  feel  relieved." 
"  Oh  !  so  much." 
"  How  kind  you  are." 

"  The  Yankees  are  not  so  black  as  our  papers  have 
painted  them.  I'm  so  rejoiced  to  know  that  we  can 
save  the  goose." 

Just  then  Julius  came  bounding  around  the  corner 
of  the  house.  His  hair  fairly  stood  on  end,  and  his  eyes 
seemed  starting  from  their  sockets. 

"  Miss  Julia  !     Miss  Julia  !     Miss  Julia  !  " 
"  What  is  it,  Julius  ?  " 
"  O,  Miss  Julia!  Miss  Julia!" 
"  Speak,  you  idiot !  " 

"  De  goose,  Miss  Julia,  de  goose  !  See  dar,  see 
dar  !  Look,  dat  Yankee  gwine  ober  de  fence  yonder 
wid  de  goose  you's  a-keepin'  for  Massa  Colonel  Bob  !  " 

Sure  enough,  Julius  was  right.  While  the  ladies 
had  been  entertaining  me  on  the  piazza  a  straggling 
cavalryman  had  entered  the  yard.  He  had  filled  his 
canteen  at  the  spring  house.  Then  he  interviewed 
Julius.  Next  he  slipped  into  the  cellar  and  raised  a  tub 
that  was  bottom-side  up  on  the  cellar  bottom. 

Under  the  tub  he  found  the  goose,  which  he  seized 
by  the  neck.  In  a  few  seconds  he  had  jumped  over  the 
fence  to  where    his   horse  was   standing,   and   without 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

paying  any  attention  to  my  shouts  for  him  to  "  stop  or 
drop  that  goose,"  the  blue-coated  robber  put  spurs  to 
his  steed  and  disappeared  down  the  road. 

The  goose  was  gone.  Col.  Bob's  dinner  was  spoiled 
so  far  as  that  goose  was  concerned. 

"  Ladies  "  — 

"  Don't  speak  to  me." 

"  Nor  me." 

"  Nor  me." 

"  Nor  me." 

"  But  I  assure  you  "  — 

"  Yes,  you  assured  us  a  few  minutes  ago." 

"  I  had  misgivings  all  the  time  that  Miss  Emma 
would  tell  about  the  goose." 

"  But,  mother  dear,  don't  cry  ;  I  thought  we  could 
trust  a  gentleman." 

"  So  we  could,  but  we  should  have  known  better 
than  to  trust  a  Yankee." 

I  believe  that  I  would  have  shot  the  bummer  who 
confiscated  that  goose  had  he  been  within  range  of  my 
revolver  while  I  was  under  fire  on  that  piazza.  I  never 
felt  quite  so  mean  in  the  presence  of  ladies  before. 

"  Go  and  join  your  partner,"  said  the  mother. 

"  Leave  us,  sir!  "  chorused  the  daughters. 

What  a  predicament  for  a  youthful  soldier.  There 
I  stood,  despised  and  hated  by  four  ladies  with  whom  I 
had  been  apparently  on  good  terms  a   few  moments  be- 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

fore.  Had  a  band  of  bushwhackers  opened  fire  on  me 
at  that  moment  I  should  have  been  happy  again. 

The  bushwhackers  did  not  come,  but  Julius  did.  I 
shall  never  forget  Julius. 

"Miss  Julia,  dis  yere  Yankee  doan'  know  nuffin 
'bout  stealin'  dat  goose." 

"  How  do  you  know,  nigger?  " 

"  Cos'  what  dat  oder  Yankee  say." 

"  What  did  he  say?  " 

"  He  tole  me  'fi  made  de  leas  bit  of  holler  so  dat 
Yankee  sittin'  on  de  porch  wid  you  all  see  he,  he  would 
don'  cut  my  brack  hed  off  wid  he's  s'od.  Deed  he  did, 
Miss  Julia." 

"  How  did  he  know  about  the  goose  ?  " 

"  Spec  I'se  de  nigger  to  blame.  He  axed  me  whar 
missus  kept  her  pervisions,  an'  fo'  I  know'd  what  I  do'n, 
I  sav,  '  Nuffin  left  but  one  ole  goose,  Massa.'  Den  he 
say,  '  Whar  dat  goose  ?  '  an'  what  wor  a  poor  nigger  to 
do,  Miss  Julia  ?  " 

"  We  have  done  you  an  injustice,  sir,"  said  the 
mother,  again  turning  to  me. 

"  Pardon  us,  sir,"  said  the  younger  ladies. 

"  Don't  mention  it,  ladies.  I  am  so  glad  that  I  am 
relieved  from  the  suspicion  of  complicity  in  the  stealing 
of  that  ^oose,  that  I  would  stay  and  help  cook  a  dinner 
to  celebrate  Col.  Bob's  return  were  it  not  for  the  fact 
that  I  must  go  on  and  report  to  Gen.  Meade." 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

We  parted  very  good  friends.  A  goodly  store  of 
rlour,  meat,  coffee  and  sugar  was  sent  to  the  ladies  from 
the  Union  commissary  department,  and  no  doubt  Col. 
Bob  reached  home  in  time  to  share  the  rations  with  his 
charming  family. 

Although  twenty-six  years  have  come  and  gone 
since  my  experience  on  the  piazza  of  that  Virginia 
farmhouse,  I  cannot  repress  a  feeling  whenever  I  recall 
the  circumstances,  that  I  would  be  pleased  to  meet  that 
"  other  Yankee  "  who  did  steal  that  goose  and  choke 
him  till  he  cried  " peccavi!  " 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

Assassination  of  Lincoln — The  Return  March  —  A  Homeless 
Confederate  —  Not  Destroyed  by  the  Yankees — The  Goddess 
of  Liberty  —  The  Grand  Review  —  Grant's  Final  Order. 

'HE  news  of  the  assassination  of  Lincoln 
reached  us  at  Burkesville  Junction — the 
crossing  of  the  Richmond  and  Danville 
and  the  Southside  railroads  —  April  15, 
1865.  The  terrible  intelligence  came 
over  the  military  telegraph  wire  about 
midnight  of  the  fourteenth,  I  think,  but  it  was  not  pro- 
mulgated to  the  troops  until  after  reveille  in  the  morn- 
ing. Secretary  Seward  had  been  dangerously  wounded 
by  one  of  the  assassins,  and  the  Head  of  the  Nation 
had  been  murdered  by  J.  Wilkes  Booth,  who  as  he  was 
escaping  from  the  theater  at  Washington  where  the 
President  was  shot,  brandished  a  dagger  on  the  stage 
and  shouted,  "  Sic  semper  tyrannis  !  "  and  "  the  South 
is  avenged  !  " 

As    the    details    of    the    dastardly  plot  were    made 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

known,  the  army  was  informed  that  the  assassin  in- 
tended to  take  the  life  of  Gen.  Grant.  Battle-scarred 
and  stern-faced  veterans  who  had  fought  from  the  first 
Bull  Run  to  Appomattox  turned  pale  and  set  their 
teeth  as  the  dispatches  were  read  to  the  men  drawn  up 
in  line.  It  was  difficult  to  believe  at  first  that  Abraham 
Lincoln,  the  great  and  noble  and  tender-hearted  Presi- 
dent whom  we  had  seen  only  a  few  days  before  neat- 
Petersburg,  was  dead.  Yet  the  sad  news  was  confirmed 
as  later  dispatches  came  to  hand. 

The  Union  soldiers  again  began  to  look  after  their 
cartridge  boxes.  They  knew  not  what  to  expect  next. 
This  was  a  new  phase  of  warfare.  But  in  spite  of  the 
declaration  of  the  assassin  that  the  South  was  avenged, 
a  majority  of  the  rank  and  file  of  Grant's  army  as  they 
recovered  from  the  first  shock  of  the  dreadful  calamity, 
were  ready  to  exonerate  the  men  who  had  laid  clown 
their  arms  at  Appomattox  from  any  complicity  in  the 
plot  that  struck  down  the  noble  Lincoln  at  the  very 
moment  that  the  glorious  sun  of  peace  was  rising  above 
the  dark  clouds  that  had  hung  like  a  pall  over  the 
nation  for  four  long  years. 

Lincoln  was  murdered  on  the  fourth  anniversary 
of  the  capture  of  Fort  Sumter  by  the  rebels.  The 
traitors  who  directed  the  firing  on  the  flag  waving  over 
that  fortress  four  years  before,  and  who  had  set  on  foot 
and   carried   forward   the    wickedest   rebellion    ever   in- 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

augurated,  were  responsible  for  the  death  of  the  martyr 
Lincoln  and  the  thousands  who  fell  on  both  sides  of 
that  sanguinary  conflict. 

A  few  days  after  the  assassination  we  continued  our 
march  to  Richmond,  camping  for  a  day  or  two  in  Man- 
chester on  the  opposite  side  of  the  James.  The  ruin 
and  havoc  made  by  the  rebels  when  evacuating  their 
capital,  subjected  the  inhabitants  to  great  hardships. 
A  large  portion  of  the  city  was  burned. 

I  witnessed  the  return  of  a  veteran  in  butternut  to 
his  home  in  Richmond.  He  came  down  the  hill  from 
the  State  House  and  turned  into  a  street  leading  toward 
the  river.  His  right  arm  was  in  a  sling.  He  had  been 
wounded  early  in  the  morning  of  the  day  that  Lee  sur- 
rendered. The  disbanded  Confederate  was  literally  in 
rags  and  the  uppers  of  his  shoes  had  seceded  from  the 
soles.  Yet  his  face  was  beaming  with  joyful  anticipa- 
tion, for  he  was  nearing  his  home. 

But  as  he  reached  what  had  been  the  corner  of  an- 
other street  and  turned  to  the  right,  his  serviceable 
hand  was  raised  and  his  knees  trembled  as  he  looked  in 
vain  for  the  dwelling  he  had  left  when  last  he  bade  his 
little  family  good-by  and  hastened  away  to  help  build 
the  breastworks  in  front  of  Petersburg.  The  dwellings 
that  had  stood  in  that  neighborhood  were  now  a  mass 
of  blackened  ruins.  The  poor  fellow  sank  down  in  the 
street  and  a  colored  man  hastened  to  his  assistance. 


DOWN     IN     DIXIE. 


"  I  declar,  it's  Massa  John,"  exclaimed  the  negro  as 
lie  raised  the  head  of  the  soldier.  "  Doan'  you  know 
me,  Massa  ?  " 

"  Is  it  Pomp  ?  " 
"  Deed  an'  'tis  Pomp,  Massa." 
"  Where  is  your  mistress  and  the  children?" 
"  Dey's  ober  on  the  odder  side   de  bridge,  Massa; 
how   glad    dey'll    be    to    see    you. 
We  all    'spected   de   Yankees  dun 
kill  you,  shuah  nuff." 

Just  then  a  woman  came  hur- 
riedly from  around  the  corner  and 
stopped  for  a  moment  as  she  sur- 
veyed the  scene  before  her. 

"  Who  is  it,  Pomp  ?  "  she  eagerly 
inquired,  as  she  advanced  toward 
the  party  in  the  street. 

"  Bress  de  Lawd,  it's  Massa 
John." 

In  another  moment  husband 
and  wife  were  in  each  other's  arms, 
their  tears  flowing  freely. 

"  And  the  children,  Mary  ?  " 
"Safe  and  well,  praise  God." 
"Amen.     Praise  God  you  are  all  alive." 
"  But  you  are  wounded  ?  " 
"Yes,  clear;  I'll  be  unable  to  use  my  right  arm  for  a 


WOUNDED    CONFEDERATE. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

few  months;  but  when  it  gets  well  we  will  rebuild  the 
home  which  the  Yankees  have  destroyed  for  us." 

"  But,  my  dear,  our  home  was  not  destroyed  by  the 
Yankees.  The  city  was  fired  by  our  own  men  as  they 
left  us.  The  fire  was  raging  terribly  when  the  Yankees 
came  in  and  did  all  they  could  to  prevent  the  spread  of 
the  flames." 

"  Is  that  so?  Then  I  have  fought  for  years,  lost  the 
use  of  my  right  arm  and  returned  to  find  my  home  de- 
stroyed by  order  of  one  of  our  own  generals.  Surely, 
wife,  the  hand  of  God  has  been  against  the  Confederacy. 
We  were  taught  to  believe  that  we  were  fighting  for 
liberty,  but  we  were  mistaken.  I  love  the  stars  and 
bars.  I  have  fought  and  bled  for  our  flag,  yet  I  be- 
gin to  feel  that  secession  was  not  right.  Our  leaders 
were  wrong,  and  it  follows  that  we  must  suffer  for  it." 

"  What  shall  we  do,  John  ?  " 

"  Do  ?  Well,  the  outlook  is  not  bright,  I'll  admit. 
But  we'll  not  get  discouraged.  I  have  a  brother  in 
Boston  who  has  money,  you  know,  and  I  believe  he'll 
help  us  out.  He  told  me  not  to  go  into  the  Confeder- 
ate army.  He  said  we  would  get  whipped,  but  I  didn't 
believe  it  then.  Brother  was  right,  and  I'll  send  him  a 
letter  next  mail." 

Then  the  wounded  Confederate  and  his  better  half 
started  off  to  meet  their  children  at  the  house  of  a 
friend.      I  gave  him  the  contents  of  mv  haversack  and 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 


several  other  troopers  who  were  with  me  also  gave  our 
late  foe  what  they  had  with  them. 

"  Thank  you,  boys;  I'm  glad  it's  over,"  he  said,  as  he 
handed  the  provisions  to  Pomp,  who  "  toted  "  it  to  their 
friend's  residence  over  the  bridge. 

From  Richmond  we  marched  to  Washington,  enjoy- 
ing the  trip  greatly.  On  the  way  we  passed  over  many 
of  the  Virginia  battlefields.  Here  and  there  farmers 
were  plowing  and  preparing  to  put  in  grain  where  the 
opposing  armies  had  recently  been  in  camp.  The 
column  was  in  the  best  of  spirits.  The  war  was  over. 
Our  side  had  gained  the  victory  and  we  were  homeward 
bound.  As  we  came  to  the  brow  of  Arlington  Heights 
and  caught  our  first  glance  of  the  Capitol  in  the  dis- 
tance, cheer  after  cheer  was  given.  The  bands  played 
martial  tunes  and  the  rejoicing  was  general. 

"  The  Goddess  has  been  put  on  top  of  the  dome," 
said  one  of  the  boys  of  Company  I. 

"  Yes  ;  but  poor  Taylor  isn't  with  us  to  see  the  grand 
sight,"  remarked  another. 

We  went  into  camp  on  Arlington  Heights,  and  the 
bulk  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  soon  arrived.  It  was 
a  grand  reunion.  The  soldiers  visited  through  the 
bivouacs  and  in  Washington.  Relatives  and  friends 
from  home  came  down  to  see  the  boys  and  to  congratu- 
late the  victorious  army. 

Then  came  the  gallant  army  that  had  marched  from 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

Atlanta  to  the  sea  commanded  by  Gen.  Sherman.  The 
two  armies  fraternized  for  the  first  time.  And  it  was  a 
glorious  meeting.  Volumes  could  be  written  of  inter- 
esting incidents  of  those  last  days  of  army  life  around 
Washington. 

Before  the  troops  were  disbanded  they  participated 
in  a  general  review  in  Washington  ;  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac,  May  23,  and  Sherman's  army,  May  24,  1865. 
It  was  the  grandest  military  display  ever  seen.  Orders 
for  the  review  were  promulgated  several  days  in  ad- 
vance, and  so  thoroughly  disciplined  were  the  troops, 
that  in  all  that  vast  aggregation  of  military  organiza- 
tions there  was  no  break  during  the  two  days  of  parad- 
ing.    Everything  moved  with  clocklike  regularity. 

The  first  day  —  Army  of  the  Potomac  day  —  found 
Companies  C  and  D,  First  Massachusetts  cavalry,  in 
line  before  reveille.  The  boys  had  been  all  night 
polishing  their  sabers  and  other  equipments.  No  one 
could  sleep  on  such  an  occasion.  We  were  to  ride 
before  the  President,  governors  of  loyal  States  and  other 
dignitaries,  and  we  were  anxious  to  do  honor  to  the 
event  —  the  event  of  a  lifetime. 

I  had  the  honor  to  be  one  of  three  soldiers  of  the 
escort  to  ride  next  to  Gen.  Meade  on  the  grand  review. 
The  general  was  the  first  military  man  to  ride  by  the 
reviewing  stand  at  the  White  House. 

The  headquarters  flag  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

was  carried  by  a  sergeant  of  our  company.  On  the 
right  of  the  sergeant,  who  was  a  few  paces  in  the  rear 
of  Gen.  Meade,  rode  a  trooper  of  Company  D,  and  I 
rode  on  the  sergeant's  left;  we  were  three  abreast.  It 
was  a  position  of  honor,  and  we  felt  it,  although  we  did 
not  appropriate  to  ourselves  all  the  homage  paid  to  the 
head  of  the  column.  We  were  willing  to  admit  that 
some  of  the  cheering  was  intended  for  the  grand  old 
hero  of  Gettysburg,  George  Gordon  Meade. 

As  the  escort  and  staff  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac 
arrived  at  the  Capitol  building,  thousands  of  school- 
girls dressed  in  white  appeared.  The  bands  played 
"  Hail  to  the  Chief,"  and  one  of  the  prettiest  of  the 
larger  girls  came  forward  to  present  Gen.  Meade  an 
evergreen  wreath,  beautifully  festooned  with  roses,  and 
neatly  tied  with  satin  ribbon.  The  general's  horse 
"  flaxed  around  "  so  that  he  could  not  reach  the  wreath, 
and  he  called  me  to  receive  it,  which  I  did,  and  passed 
it  over  my  shoulder,  wearing  it  like  a  sash  on  the  review. 
The  bands  played  again,  and  we  took  up  the  line  of 
march  on  Pennsylvania  Avenue.  On  to  the  turn  at  the 
Treasury  Building;  another  turn,  this  time  to  the  left, 
and  we  were  in  front  of  the  White  House. 

On  either  side  the  avenue  was  packed,  and  we 
looked  into  a  great  sea  of  faces  all  the  way.  And  how 
the  people  did  cheer  and  shout.  Never  was  such 
another  scene  presented. 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

All  the  buildings  along  the  line  of  march  were 
decorated.  Flags,  banners  and  bunting  waved  from 
every  edifice.  Across  the  south  face  of  the  Capitol  an 
inscription  standing  out  in  large  letters  declared  : 

"  The  Only  National  Debt  We  Can  Never  Pay  is 
the  Debt  We  Owe  To  the  Victorious  Union  Soldiers." 

Gen.  Meade  after  passing  the  reviewing  stand  rode 
into  the  gate  in  front  of  the  White  House,  dismounted 
and  joined  Grant  and  other  distinguished  people  on  the 
platform.  The  color  sergeant,  the  D  Company  orderly 
and  myself  remained  mounted  near  the  gate  inside  the 
yard,  and  witnessed  the  review  of  the  gallant  Army  of 
the  Potomac,  sixty-five  thousand  strong,  marching  by, 
company  front. 

It  was  a  magnificent  spectacle.  There  we  sat  for 
six  hours  and  more,  as  the  proud  Union  soldiers  marched 
triumphantly  before  the  representatives  of  the  Govern- 
ment. So  well  planned  was  the  movement  of  the 
troops,  that  some  of  the  brigades,  after  passing  the 
reviewing  stand,  marched  to  camp,  were  dismissed,  and 
the  soldiers  returned  to  the  city  and  joined  the  thou- 
sands of  citizens  witnessing  the  parade.  And  while  the 
leading  divisions  were  marching  in  review,  some  of  those 
which  came  into  column  later  in  the  day,  were  back  in 
their  bivouacs,  cooking  coffee  for  a  lunch  before  falling 
into  line. 

The  second  day,  May  24,  Sherman's  splendid  army 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

was  reviewed.  Gen.  Meade  occupied  a  seat  on  the 
reviewing  stand,  and  his  two  orderlies  sat  on  their 
horses  near  the  gate  in  the  White  House  yard,  as  they 
had  done  the  day  before. 

Sherman's  "  bummers  "  came  in  for  a  good  share  of 
the  applause  as  they  marched  behind  the  regiments  to 
which  they  belonged,  and  here  and  there  a  Georgia 
contraband  also  attracted  attention.  The  review  ended, 
we  returned  to  our  camp  on  the  south  side  of  the 
Potomac,  on  Arlington  Heights. 

June  2,  1S65,  came  Grant's  final  order  to  the  Union 
soldiers.  It  was  read  to  the  troops,  and  concluded  as 
follows : 


"  In  obedience  to  your  country's  call,  you  left  your  homes  and  families,  and 
volunteered  in  its  defense.  Victory  has  crowned  your  valor,  and  secured  the  pur- 
pose of  your  patriotic  hearts,  and  with  the  gratitude  of  your  countrymen  and  the 
highest  honors  a  great  and  free  nation  can  accord,  you  will  soon  be  permitted  to 
return  to  your  homes  and  families,  conscious  of  having  discharged  the  highest 
duties  of  American  citizens. 

"  To  achieve  the  glorious  triumphs,  and  secure  to  yourselves,  your  fellow- 
countrymen  and  posterity  the  blessings  of  free  institutions,  tens  of  thousands  of 
your  gallant  comrades  have  fallen,  and  sealed  the  priceless  legacy  with  their 
lives.  The  graves  of  these  a  grateful  nation  bedews  with  tears,  honors  their 
memories,  and  will  ever  cherish  and  support  their  stricken  families." 


CHAPTER    XV. 


Mustered  Out  at  Arlington  Heights  —  Back  to  the  Old  Bay 
State  —  Discharged  From  the  Service  —  Startling  News  in  a 
Quiet  Village  —  Home,  Sweet  Home. 

ERE  at  Arlington  Heights  the  squadron 
of  the  First  Massachusetts  Cavalry,  Com- 
panies C  and  D,  commanded  by  Capt.  E. 
A.  Flint,  and  on  duty  at  headquarters 
Army  of  the  Potomac,  was  mustered  out 
June  29,  1865,  by  Capt.  J.  C.  Bates,  of  the  Eleventh 
United  States  infantry,  chief  commissary  of  musters,  in 
compliance  with  special  orders  No.  24  headquarters 
cavalry  corps,  June  18,  1865.  A  few  days  later  we  were 
en  route  to  the  Old  Bay  State  to  receive  our  discharges 
at  Camp  Meigs,  Readville.  Many  of  the  boys  were  so 
anxious  to  get  home  that  they  could  not  wait  to  have 
their  papers  made  out,  but  left  requests  to  have  them 
sent  on  to  them  by  mail. 

I   reached  home  a  day  or  two  after  the  Fourth  of 
July.     And    what  a  reunion  we  had  !     All  the  family 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

and  many  of  the  neighbors  assembled  to  welcome  the 
soldier  boy.  Of  course  I  was  a  hero  in  the  estimation 
of  the  good  folks  at  home.  I  had  yet  seven  months  to 
live  to  reach  my  seventeenth  birthday,  but  I  had 
returned  with  a  discharge  which  declared  that  "  No 
objection  to  his  being  re-enlisted  is  known  to  exist." 

In  a  marginal  note  it  was  stated  that  "  This  sentence 
will  be  erased  should  t'here  be  anything  in  the  conduct 
or  physical  condition  of  the  soldier  rendering  him  unfit 
for  the  army." 

Irving  Waterman  did  not  reach  Berlin  until  two 
days  after  my  arrival.  He  had  remained  at  Boston  to 
visit  with  one  of  the  boys.  My  little  sister  Eva,  when 
she  saw  me  coming  down  the  road  without  Irving,  only 
waited  to  greet  me  with  a  kiss,  and  then  started  on  a 
run  for  the  home  of  Waterman's  parents. 

"  My  brother's  come  home  ! "  she  exclaimed. 

"Praise  the  Lord!"  shouted  Mrs.  Waterman. 

"  But  your  son  didn't  come." 

"  Didn't  he  —  what's  the  matter  ?  " 

"  He's  dead." 

"  Dead  ?     Irving  dead  —  no,  no  !  that  can't  be." 

"  But  he  didn't  come,  and  he  must  be  dead." 

Mrs.  Waterman  headed  a  procession  —  a  dozen  or 
more  —  of  men,  women  and  children,  who  came  up  the 
street  on  a  run.  The  news  that  Waterman  was  dead 
spread    like    wildfire,    and     soon     a     large    number    of 


DOWN    IN    DIXIE. 

villagers  were  at  our  house  to  hear  all  about  it.  Their 
alarm  was  changed  to  rejoicing  when  I  assured  them 
that  Waterman  was  alive  and  well. 

My  little  sister  when  she  heard  mother  inquiring 
about  Irving,  and  my  reply  that  he  had  not  returned 
with  me,  took  it  for  granted  that  he  was  dead,  and  so 
hastened  to  inform  Mrs.  Waterman. 

Late  that  night  when  the  family  separated  to 
"catch  a  little  sleep  before  chore  time,"  as  father  put  it, 
and  I  sank  down  into  mother's  best  feather  bed,  and 
tried  to  remember  the  thrilling  events  in  which  I  had 
participated  since  Waterman,  Taylor  and  I  started  for 
that  "  shooting  match,"  I  felt  that,  after  all,  — 


Be  it  ever  so  humble. 
There's  no  place  like  home. 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OE  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 


Wilmer 
43 


